


Headlights

by UWotMaTe



Category: BBS - Fandom
Genre: A+ Parenting, Abuse, Angst, Cancer, Depression, Graphic descriptions of violence, Grief, Happy Ending?, High School AU, Homelessness, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Neglect, PTSD, Slow Burn, Still Ends Happy Though, Suicidal thoughts and actions, scary shit, shit storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UWotMaTe/pseuds/UWotMaTe
Summary: It seemed that problems were all that they had. A singular school year managed to spiral into chaos and flames and they weren't sure how to go about picking up the pieces and putting themselves back together again.





	1. Parents

**Author's Note:**

> I want to apologize for this fic in advance. It's not a happy one at all. Based off of IRL experiences I've had. Sorry.

Luke had learned how to predict the future from his mother by using the morning in place of a crystals ball. That's all it took. A singular glance out his window told him that it wasn't going to be a good day. Part of him already knew that. He had hoped that somehow, some way, his gut instinct would be wrong just once and things would get better. His eyes clung to the heavy clouds above him. The skies were dark. They ate all light that dared push past them and reach the earth. The sun was being held hostage and it didn't care. The wind was sharp and cold. The frost made the grass stick out like needles. The day was that of isolation. He could tell by the way not even his shadow wanted to remain at his side. 

Perhaps that was the difference between him and his mother. Luke’s mother believed that she could tell the future, see what the day’s emotions were going to be, and improve them. Luke couldn't. Maybe it was his lack of experience and understanding, something his mother had much more of, that made him feel so hopeless on mornings like these. She'd woken him up with a brighter smile than usual and had made him a lunch. Her attempt to brighten his gloomy day had worked, he'd readily admit to that. His mother’s ham sandwiches were the best around and he was looking forward to the note she left because even though he was a senior in high school, she would always leave a note. And even though she had easily made his day better, Luke wasn't sure if his soul, singular smile was enough to brighten the days of others.

It hadn't thus far. He'd picked up Jonny as always. He half expected Jonny to be as perky and as radiant as always. Normally a cup of coffee and two pounds of sugar had that kid up and running around like a toddler before bedtime. Luke was disheartened when Jonny slunk from his house with his head hanging low and bags eating up the space under his eyes.

He hoped that some nice tunes and sick beats would lift Jonny’s spirits. He ignored his own music taste to appease those of his friend. Jonny held no reaction. His head leaned against his window for a vast majority of the car ride to school. His eyes were locked dead ahead and yet he found himself unable to actually see anything that passed him. 

He was quiet. Quiet and Jonny were two words that didn't like each other in the same sentence. Not unless they were used against each other. Such as Jonny was never quiet. That would have been the correct way to use Jonny and quiet together in the same sentence. Jonny liked his voice. He liked the attention. He hated sitting still in silence. 

Luke found it odd, the sudden change in his friend. But he didn't complain. A quiet Jonny was a blessing sometimes. He was thankful for the tranquil morning ride. He wasn't too worried for his friend. He figured he was just tired. He probably stayed up all night talking to Evan again and was now paying the price for it.

Luke knew that by lunch, Jonny would be back to his normal hyper self and the silence would shatter. Or so he hoped. 

The boys stepped into the cafeteria and made their way towards their usual table. A body already sat hunched over it, shoulders brought up to create a sort of shield, his thumbs tapping wildly away at the cracked phone screen before him. He didn't acknowledge the two new arrivals. Jonny, despite how exhausted he was, read the atmosphere in almost an instant. He took his seat and offered a friendly grin.

“Parents giving you hell again?”

“When aren't they?” Luke grumbled. It was no secret that no one in their group liked Ryan’s parents. Hard headed asshats was what they were. Everyone had issues with their parents but Ryan’s took the cake. Every day was a battle with them for basic necessities. Eating, drinking, at times even sleeping, were privileges he could easily lose and were difficult to earn back. Every day was a fight with his parents he always seemed to lose. 

Ryan stared down at the screen and frowned when it lit up with a new lengthy paragraph he'd have to read through. He sighed heavily and erased his previous response to start anew. 

“What are they bitching about now?” Luke asked. He peaked over his friend’s shoulder in a painful attempt to read the argument at hand. 

“Last month my dad got on my ass to get a job and help out. So I got a job. He's not letting me keep my money and now he's saying I need to focus on my grades and never should have gotten the job in the first place. I don't understand! I'm doing everything. I’m following every rule! What more do they-” he was interrupted by his phone’s sudden chirp and another paragraph appeared before his exhausted eyes.

Luke frowned at the last portion of the message just sent. Jonny could physically feel the tension in the room double. Luke sat down heavily and pulled Ryan close to help ease the rising stress.

“If I see a single bruise on you tomorrow I'm going to strangle your father,” he grumbled. 

Jonny wrung his hands together nervously. He reached into his bag to find something, anything, to distract himself with.

“Hey, Ryan, did you do McMan’s homework?”

“Why didn't you ask me?” Luke threw on his best offended face. Jonny rolled his eyes. Ryan fished his own tattered notebook from the collection of strings he called a backpack and handed it over quickly.

“I know that you haven't done it yet and won't until five minutes before it's even due. And I can't read your handwriting. I prefer Ryan’s because it's neat and orderly unlike yours, you prick!” Jonny teased. He struggled to maintain a scowl. His jocular smile pushed past with ease. Luke could say nothing, he could only stick his tongue out childishly. 

Luke’s smile vanished when Ryan's phone went off once more. He gently extended his hand. Ryan understood instantly, placing the phone upon his palm. Luke slid the phone into Ryan’s pack pack pocket to be ignored for the time being. 

Silence stunted their table for what felt like the millionth time. Luke and Ryan held each other within their own unspoken argument that Ryan was evidently losing. Jonny did his best to block out the irritability radiating off of his two friends. 

He focused instead on the homework at hand. He hoped that the two in front of him would somehow work something out and the tensions would fall. However he highly doubted such an event would happen. Perhaps at the beginning of sophomore year when all of this had first started getting bad, things could settle and Ryan would laugh and smile. Now there was only anger and fear. 

“My brother,” a voice suddenly cut in, startling all three, “Is talented.” Bryce took his seat and promptly dumped an armful of snacks in the center of the table. Luke and Ryan stopped their mute conversation thankful for the distraction. 

“So I look up and there he is, his fucking head just lodged between the railings and he's smiling like an idiot. And of course, I'm the eldest and the only one home so I gotta get his head out of the railing. And it's only when I have the sides of his head slathered in butter and I'm practically ripping out his hair that I realize we’re at the top of the stairs and this is only ending badly.”

He proceeded to lift up his shirt to flash off the new baseball sized bruise he'd earned today saving his brother. Luke winced. He never did like seeing injuries on others, no matter the type. His own side began that odd sensation of burning. Bryce only laughed.

“We both fell. I think he used me as a cushion, so he's ok. The stairs took a bite out of me though.” 

Jonny turned Bryce a bit to get a better look at the bruise. Homework for the moment had been forgotten. He compared the size of the bruise to his own hand. His jaw fell.

“Fuck dude!”

“What's fuck? Why is the freshy flashing his titties? What did I walk in on?” All looked up towards the new voice. They all recognized it. Everyone knew that voice. They knew his name. They knew him. And it was an honor and privilege if he knew you back. Evan grinned before gently pushing Jonathan over a bit and taking his seat.

“Can I show my titties? I bet you they're bigger.” Bryce quickly pulled his shirt back down. A rosy blush painted his cheeks a deep shade of pink. Luke could only laugh. 

“You're probably right,” Ryan added. He earned a quick kick under the table. Evan smiled and began to press his pecks closer together. He frowned a bit before turning to Jonathan.

“They're decently sized, don't you think?” Jonny’s head fell to his hand as he began to question why he was friends with these weirdos. His mind flashed back through time to see where he went wrong. What did he do to deserve this? 

“I dunno man. They're pretty small. Like Ryan’s,” Luke teased. 

“Yeah! Itty bitty titty comity!” Evan shouted, reaching over to high five Bryce and Ryan. When Bryce refused to return the high five, Evan took him by the wrist and forced it, followed swiftly by another “yeah!”

He settled down after that. His eyes found Ryan’s tattered note book filled with neat and well kept notes. His face sunk.

“That's not due today is it?”

“You have time. And the answers,” Jon pointed out quickly. Evan looked as though he'd been pulled into a deep thought. He shrugged.

“Think imma just have to take the L. By the way, whose food is this? Cause I'm about to eat it and you cannot stop me.” Bryce gave an approving gesture before pointing at the pile of bags on the floor.

“Someone’s phone is going off.”

Ryan fished his phone back out and glared at it. Sixteen unread messages, three missed calls. He groaned aloud when the screen erupted one more in a flash of color demanding for him to answer it. He excused himself before answering. 

All found it unnerving how quickly the tension suddenly grew. Luke watched Ryan pace. Jonny tried to focus more on the homework he was only now figuring out. Bryce entertained himself with his snacks. Evan fell to the joys of his phone. 

Before Ryan had taken up the job, before he began to deteriorate away, the group never had these awkward moments. They filled the silence with jokes at each other's expense. Most were directed towards Ryan, who was capable of handling it better than the others. But sleep deprived nights had made him irritated. The constant fights with his family had made him exhausted. Life was draining him of the joys he once had. The group watched him fall apart and none knew what they should do to help. Silence bruised their conversations. Stillness bled from their time together. All wanted to say something but none knew what to say. 

They thought to their own parents. They all had their own issues. Bryce’s parents liked to travel, leaving him and his three little brothers home alone for weeks on end to fend for themselves. Jonny’s parents treated him as though he was nothing but a stain on their reputation and good name, never good enough. Evan’s parents didn't bother to listen to him half the time, always urging him to succeed at everything. Ryan’s parents took the cake with their insanely strict rules and harsh punishments. All felt as though they were reaching their breaking points, but it appeared that Ryan had broken weeks ago. He was but only the shell of the boy who was once their lively, almost fatherly, friend.

What does a group do when the life of the party dies? Who replaces them? Can they even be replaced? None knew. None wanted to know. They felt their spirits fall, and fall further still upon remembering that it was only Monday.


	2. Two months and counting

A car horn blasted loudly beyond his window. Craig pulled his pillow free from under his head and quickly suffocated himself with it instead. He clamped his eyes tightly together in a desperate attempt to block out the sound that refused to let up. He grit his teeth. He sat up suddenly. He was ready to fight who ever it was out there. Didn't they know what time it was? Actually, what time was it?

Craig glanced at his clock and cursed. Late! He threw himself out of bed and rushed to find something, anything, to wear. He snatched up his things from off the couch and tore out into the cold morning air. 

Tyler sat in his car. His hand never left the horn even when he saw Craig rushing towards him. Only after Craig was buckled in the passenger seat did he stop to replace it with his laughter.

“Fix your hair, bed head,” he teased. Craig caught himself in the mirror to see what the hell Tyler was talking about. Tyler shook his head chuckling a bit. “You know what? No. Don't fix it, it suits you.”

“You didn't have to honk.”

“I've been here for fifteen minutes, dude. What, did you sleep through your alarms again?”

“Yes, actually!” Craig leaned back in his seat. He was still so goddamn tired. Maybe trying to pull off that all-nighter was a bad idea. Skipping coffee was also a bad idea. He was full of bad ideas that morning and he'd only been up for two minutes. That’s how he could tell it was going to be a shit day. 

“It's good. I figured you weren't gonna wake up on time so I planned ahead and got breakfast on the way here.” He reached for the paper bag in the back and handed it to his friend. “Eat up, butt boi.” 

The sun had risen from its grave to bless the rotting earth and the corpses that roamed it. A child had released its first laugh, a puppy had opened its eyes, and a kitten had made its first meow. Such a wonderful day it was going to be as fate had decreed it! Craig had never seen such a beautiful morning! Oh the sky, how brilliant its blue! Oh the air, how sweet its smell! Oh the world, how kind! How astounding! His day had been saved! He reached into the bag to find the food awaiting for him. Oh the smell! He could kiss Tyler! 

“What did I do to deserve you?” 

“I like believe that I died years ago and you're my eternal punishment,” Tyler griped. 

Craig would have shot back a quick sarcastic response but he didn't. Not when there was food to stuff down his throat. He moaned into the breakfast sandwich as if he'd been starving for nearly a month and the sandwich had been given to him by god himself. 

The two didn't go straight to school. Recently, they'd dropped their usual routine of carpooling. They had a hospital to get to. 

Smitty could be found on the second floor in the east wing. Room 283. He was connected by a plethora of wires and cords and cables all hooked up to a factory of machines all beeping and whirring about. Bags of fluid emptied themselves into his arms. 

John and Jay would always be besides him. They'd all be wearing smiles and laughter would be light and fluffy. They were all so care free. It astounded the doctors. They weren't sure if this was genuine hope between the friends, or it they were so terrified of the ending all knew were rapidly approaching that they could only cope by pretending it wasn't there at all. 

That's what these boys were all about after all, happy endings. Stories really. Smitty loved them. He was happiest when he was in a library surrounded by books to read and adventures to have. He'd always hoped to be able to go on one of his own. Lately it appeared that he might not be able to. 

The doctors found the tumor “too late” and rushed him through surgery after surgery. They removed nearly everything. Still it ate away at what little he had left. Two years dropped to a mere six months and even that dwindled away far too fast. 

His parents whispered about it as if he couldn't hear them. He understood that the cancer did have effect on his hearing, but it wasn't that bad. He still caught every word the two exchanged. That’s why he loved his friends so much more. They didn't whisper about the looming inevitable. They brought him stories. Happy endings. 

Craig pushed open the unnecessarily heavy door and smiled dumbly at his group of friends. They all welcomed him warmly, moving about to offer Tyler some space as well. 

“You're late,” Jay chirped. Craig flashed Smitty an apologetic look. He didn't seem to mind. He was just happy that they were all there. 

Upon getting settled, Tyler cleared his throat. He fished the die from his pocket and looked about the faces in the room. Every voice fell mute and all waited anxiously.

“Now I recall having left off on a bad note. Our bards, having started all of this in a simple hunt for a job, stumbled their way through town. With witches, wizards, and whatever else after their heads, our heroes had to flee from town all together, taking the only route they were offered. A melodramatic hum carried them through the snaking caverns. A light at the end of the tunnel convinced them that a fresh breath of air was just around the corner. But the light wasn't that of the sun’s fire. 'Twas a very different form of flames indeed.”

He never really liked DnD. He thought it went too slow, didn't like the common story lines they all seemed to follow. A magical this needs to save the world, an unlikely hero arises, skilled elves, stupid orcs, war, blah blah blah! He hated it! But he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather be doing. The small two hour long sessions he had with this group was the highlight of his day. 

He loved how his friends also hated the usual DnD campaigns. He loved how easily they were able to adapt to Tyler’s round about stories and odd characters and rules. 

Suddenly, this wasn't a hospital room any more. Tyler wasn't a junior in high school flunking Language arts. He was their wizard guide whose spells never did seem to work how they were supposed to. Craig wasn't a sophomore drowning in homework, he was Blorf, the highly sophisticated Orc, master of the lute, and an incredible dancer. John wasn't John, he was L'Avis, the elf who had no brains what so ever, and surprisingly good at the kazoo. Jay was Merlin, a farmer’s daughter who rocked the bagpipes, incredibly talented with her words, and blind. Smitty was Manss, the halfling on the triangle, who was constantly being followed by a strange, floating, one eyed frog named Hoarse. 

Tyler at first wanted nothing to do with these things. Then he thought about what the doctors had said. There was a chance Smitty wasn't going to live to see the next year. Two months left. That's all he had. 

Suddenly DnD was the perfect thing to do. The adventures gave Smitty a chance to live, albeit in fantasy, he could still have adventures. He could have happy endings. That had been Tyler’s goal, to give Smitty as many happy endings as he could possibly fit inside their small two hour window for every day until his last.

He hated their two hour window. It was never enough time. He felt as though he'd only just sat down when it was time for him to go again. He left with a heavy heart as always. Smitty’s parents stopped him before he could leave the east wing. They both shared a smile that reminded him so much of Smitty’s it hurt to look at. 

“Thank you for giving our boy hope. We really appreciate it,” the mother spoke. 

“That boy needs friends like you, friends who are there to help remind him he's alive. Especially now.”

Tyler smiled politely. Most parents didn't exactly approve of him. He was loud and didn't care who he was talking to. If he had an opinion it was going to be said. That's how he knew this little talk wasn't going to end well, they never did. Still he'd humor them.

“Thank you. I'm sorry for all that you must be going through. I lost my grandfather to cancer. I'm not in your shoes, but I can still imagine this is going to be hard.”

“Not at all. Our little boy’s beaten everything this far. I think he's going to be just fine.”

Tyler had to walk away then. He was worried that if he hadn't, he'd end up saying something that would upset them and he wouldn't be allowed back. He's dying, that's the only thought that reached his head. He's dying, why can't they see that? Everyone else can see it. Everyone else knows how little time there is left. No one else is dancing around this. 

Craig raced to catch up to Tyler after saying his last few goodbyes. The two were hesitant to start a conversation. They both knew what the other was about to say, the topic at hand, and were it would lead. Neither wanted to say it. Neither wanted to be that guy.

“Wanna go to Wendy’s for lunch?” Tyler asked, avoiding it all together. Craig gave a small hum in response. 

“Why not Brother’s Barbeque?”

“Sound good to me, dude.” And that was that. It was settled. Their conversation never went any where near the hospital or the topic that seemed to follow them everywhere. It danced delicately around every triggering word and some how managed to stay lively and light hearted. 

John never liked how quiet it got after everyone else left. Craig was the one who kept everything alive. He made it where they could forget the beeping machine and mumbling of doctors. Reality hit them like a bus when Tyler, Craig, and Jay took off. The two, finally alone, fell from their happy high.

“Do you think there's a life after death?”

“Do you want there to be?”

“I just wanted to know. I hope there is. I hope that I'll get a chance to experience everything I missed out on.”

“Don't talk like that.” John got up from his seat to stand besides his friend. He toyed with the loose thread of the hospital blanket. 

“You sound like my parents. They don't want to believe I'm dying either.”

“That's not what I meant.” 

Smitty shut his eyes and leaned back. He focused on the buzz of the machine at his side and the annoying cry of the dying light above him. 

“I want to get married.”

“Wow, dude, you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet-”

“Go down stairs and get food then! Sheesh, needy bitch.”

John chuckled a bit. He glanced nervously to the clock and watched the seconds tick by. They never meant more to him. He hated how fast they passed.

“I think there is a life after death. I think you'll be able to get married, grow old, have a family, whatever you want, boo.”

Smitty smiled at that. It sounded so sweet. He wanted that. His hand found John's and the two held each other for as long as time would let them. They only separated when John’s mother stepped into the room to take him to school. Smitty was left alone again.


	3. Party up in here

Everyone has a label in school. Like Lui; the delinquent that none of the teachers knew how to handle. Labeled as a future convict, a failure, a troublemaker, and every curse word known under the sun. The teachers just didn't like his loud mouth and disrespectful attitude. He didn't care.

There was David, better known as Nogla. A lackey. What ever Lui said, he did. He didn't question it. He got his ass handed to him more often than he was willing to admit, but he always had a smile on his face and alcohol to provide. Brainless and free.

There was Marcel, the only man capable of being both a nerd and a jock at the same time. Overachiever. When handed a task, he didn't pass it off until it was done, and done right the first time.

Then there was Brian. The counselors said they didn't know what was wrong with him. He had so many detention slips it would be impossible to actually go to every single one. The first to put his fist through a wall, the one who threw the first punch, the one who started every fight. Had his feet kicked back and up over his desk. No one knew where his shoes went. They didn't want to know. Little shit. He wasn't afraid of anything. No adult intimidated him. No one controlled him. A free spirit.

And Brock. A bitch. He was quiet and shy. Probably would have been killed by his other classmates had he'd not tricked Brian into befriending him. That was Brock’s tactic. He liked to hide behind the bigger people. Their bad names leaked onto his. Cowardly.

Scotty, the perky freshman who had no idea what he was getting himself into. Innocent. Dead meat.

They all had one thing in common; the labels couldn't have been more wrong. Lui was a straight A student. Nogla was often the one with the stunt plans. Marcel was living his life by simply winging it. He had no clue what the fuck he was doing and he didn't think he'd get this far. Brian let himself be the punk at school because he was the bitch at home. Brock could be horrendously cruel if pushed hard enough. Scotty laughed through his problems because if he didn't, he'd cry.

They were a group of troubles and problems. The whole school knew of them. The whole school tried its best to avoid them. Where ever they walked, accidents were sure to follow. That is until Marcel’s parents left for their monthly get away and he hosted what were easily considered the best parties known to man.

The things that went down were unholy. Imagine Vegas, the gambling, drinking, mistakes, and wild nights, all packed tight and neat into a small, two story house. It took days to clean. The sin that took place was enough to damn the house to hell along with all who dared look at it.

You could show up with your crew and leave alone, half naked, miles from home, and smoking with a man named Steve. These parties were the only places, and times, where dirt bags could hook up with princesses in a moment of pure bliss. The rooms would smell awful for the next week. You could make it big at those parties. You could go from being the small nerdy kid to the man no one dared fuck with. Or you could lose it all, your girl, your reputation, your car, your life. Go big or go home.

All of a sudden these six were the best people to know. And no one knew them better than Evan. He was never more popular than those special weekends. Everyone and their brother would flock to him in need of time and day. People would rush about in hunt for the perfect people to show up with. Talk was normally centered around how fucked up they were going to get.

Evan often found himself hiding away from the chaos in the library with Jonny. It was the only quiet place they knew. They'd sit together listening to recordings of Evan’s guitar practices helping each other with their school work.

The library was their little sanctuary. Life to them was a ship rocking back and forth in a raging storm. Nothing was ever holding still. They felt sick and sometimes just wanted off the boat. The library was their only sunlight. An island where they could rest for a moment.

The library was freedom. They were free from parents who expected too much.

They spoke of Evan highly. They always told those who talked to them that he was destined for Harvard. He was going to go far and beyond. They saw him as a shooting star. They saw him as the sun. He didn't know how to tell them that he was struggling with social studies and economics. He didn't know how to tell them that he didn't want to go to college. He didn't want to let them down. So he took up every word of theirs and stacked it on his shoulders and kept trudging through it all.

Jonny was quite the opposite. His parents spoke of his sister the way Evan got talked about. Never Jonny. He was a failure. Compared to his nebula of a sister, he was nothing more than dust. They always looked at him as if he was doing something wrong. He was never enough. He didn't know what they wanted from him. He'd tried to please them. He tried to be the best in his class. He tried to be the shining star they wanted. Nothing worked. He wasn't sure when he broke. He just knew that there was a moment of clarity. If they wanted a disappointment then he'd give them something to be disappointed in.

The two were part of the same spectrum drawn up on the opposite side. They took comfort from the other, knowing that at least there was someone on this awful ship that wasn't waiting for them to be spectacular or a failure. They could be free around each other.

They weren't sure how they managed to give the other peace, how they in turn felt relief, and yet were still terrified of the other. They couldn't wait to go to the party together just to ditch each other and be free from the thunderstorm of emotion that only brewed when they were near the other. Until then, they’d sit at the table, happy to be besides the only person they felt they could relate to.

Ryan had known of the party for months now. It had been marked on his calendar for what felt like forever. He had bent every which way in a wild attempt to keep the luxury of going.

He'd followed every rule. Hed obeyed the limitations on water and food privileges. Kept to one quick ten minute shower every night, one glass of water, ate with the family and only what was offered on his plate. He never once complained. He'd kept his bedroom door open. He'd given up his phone the second he'd gotten home and said not a word as they scanned through his every message, often reading them aloud as if to try and shame him. He hadn't texted Luke. He'd been good. And it had been a fight but they gave way. They let him go.

They gave him more rules. No alcohol. No drugs. Home by ten and no later. No girls. Done, done, and done. He was always the designated driver, he wasn't allowed to drink anyway. He had to stay sober. He'd be home earlier, as he had to drop Bryce off at home before his brothers’ bedtime anyway. As far as girls went, he didn't want ‘em.

He was far happier holding Luke’s hand in his than he would be with any girl. That was the problem though. His father was very clear about his view on people like Ryan. They were sinners. They were only good when dead. Freaks. Faggots. They should be killed.They were unnatural. He'd talk about his high school days and the gay kid he drove to suicide with pride. Ryan would listen in horror, force a fake laugh, and wish that Luke were with him to chase away the fear.

He was, perhaps, the most excited about the party. He saw it as a breath of freedom. His parents wouldn’t be there to breathe down his neck. He'd be with Luke, able to do as they pleased. He would be allowed to feel human for one night. He couldn't ask for anything more.

He pulled up to Luke’s house with a smile that refused to fall. Luke could only giggle at his excited boyfriend as he hopped into the passenger seat besides him.

“You got that dumb look on your face again.”

“Dumb?” Ryan echoed. Luke nodded, turning off the music and typing up Bryce’s address into his phone’s GPS.

“Yeah, dumb. You look like you just got caught doing something you know you weren't supposed to do and you plan to keep doing it out of spite.”

“I sorta am.”

Luke pressed a quick kiss to the side of Ryan’s head. He chuckled, a dark sound that resonated from the inner workings of his throat. His hand fell to his knee and there he planned it would remain until they got to Marcel’s place.

Bryce had been hesitant to go. He didn't like the thought of leaving his brothers home alone for hours at a time. They had a habit of being stupid. He learned the hard way not to trust a nine year old with a six and five year old. However, he felt that the promise of high reward would motivate them to behave for once in their lives. He hoped to have fun without them for the night and not regret it when he got home.

The boys were hyper as always. That seemed to be the only thing they ever were. He waited anxiously for Ryan’s car to pull into the driveway. The boys saw it long before he did. All three took off to greet the two others. Bryce had to fight to get them back in the yard. One word from Luke had sent all three back in the house. They worshiped him. Bryce hopped in and spared a single glance back towards his brothers.

“This is stupid.”

“They'll be fine,” Luke sang. Ryan laughed a bit catching Bryce’s worried look in the mirror.

“You aren't leaving them for long, eight hours at most.”

Bryce knew that he really wasn't leaving them alone for that long, still he worried. Luke turned around to meet his eye.

“You left them with a way to contact you right?” Bryce gave a quick nod. Luke smiled and turned back around, “See? You ain't got no reason to worry then. They'll be fine.”

The house was all lit up. Music was blasting out of speakers set up throughout the house. Brock was filling the pool. He was watching the chlorine levels carefully. Brian was filling every fridge and mini fridge with alcohol and soda pops. Nogla was helping Lui lock up every room and cabinet people weren't supposed to get into. Marcel and Scotty were outside helping direct traffic. People were filing in slowly. Teams of five to ten piled out of cars like circus clowns.

They brought the laughter and screams and noise complaints. Tyler smiled at the house. He had many memories tied to it. Most of which all blended together in a giant blurry mess after he consumed too much. Craig groaned aloud upon seeing the lights already flashing.

“Tyler,” he whined, “last time we went to one of these you got into a fight, tried to intimidate the guy by taking your shirt off, you got stuck, and threw up all over yourself. Barf face and puke man. Those are our new names.”

“I know, it was awesome!”

“No!”

Tyler quit listening. A chuckle ripped past his throat. He lead Craig by the shoulders toward the house.

Brian let loose a grunted welcome and took the two into his arms. He kept conversation short and light, avoiding everything and yet asking about all of it. Tyler gave vague answers. Craig didn't say a word. They departed in a gentle mess of light hearted laughter. Such a greeting was considered proper these days.

A loud scream bounced off the roof tops of the neighboring buildings. Brock looked up startled by the noise. Evan tackled him in a heartbeat later. The two tumbled into the pool. Such a greeting wasn't proper, but prefered by most.

Brian watched through the window. He waited patiently for the two to return for air, growing nervous was the seconds passed. He grinned when they finally emerged, both smiling and laughing. He pushed the sudden swell of hate that raced through him. Normally he didn't get so angry when he saw Brock. Only when he was with someone else, only when he was happy with someone else. Brock was his and his alone. He didn't like to share, he didn't have much as it was.

He held himself back from rushing after Evan. He and Brock were close and old friends. They'd known each other since grade school. They were as close as Jonny and Luke. He knew he shouldn't be mad. He sighed heavily and made his way to the kitchen. He swiped a beer from its brothers and began to chug it. It's always worked for him before. He ignored the fact that he'd promised Brock that he'd stop. He knew he'd make Brock mad. This didn't stop him.

“Did you ask him yet?” Brock asked excitedly. Evan turned a brilliant shade of pink. He looked around at anything but Brock’s eyes.

“No,” he mumbled shyly. Brock frowned and dragged them both back out of the water.

“What's stopping you? You've liked him for a while now, it's clear he likes you back.”

Evan attempted to shake water free from his hair and wring it out of his cloths. He scanned his head for answers he wasn't sure he had.

“I'm waiting for the right moment, I guess.”

Brock rolled his eyes. He tossed his friend a towel and threw an arm over his shoulders. His voice fell quiet.

“If you wait too long, he’ll start to think you aren't interested. You can go slow and keep him interested. Just don't give him the cold shoulder for too long.”

Evan shook Brock off and took a step back, “I'm not giving him the cold shoulder!”

“You're currently avoiding him.”

“Am not! Maybe I just haven't seen you in a while and I wanted to say hi!”

“You're avoiding him. I know you. Go. Talk to him, dance with him, drink with him, play darts, swim, do something, anything! Go get him!”

Brock gave Evan a gentle push back towards the house. Evan wanted to turn on his heel and stay out here with Brock. He mentally kicked himself. Brock was right. He spotted Jonny through the window chatting with Brian. Evan hated Brian. He hated how Brian treated Brock. He didn't want Brian anywhere near Jonny.

He rushed inside and announced himself as loudly as he felt necessary to get Jonny’s attention. He didn't miss the side eyed look Luke gave to Ryan. Jonny grew pale, a small and shy smile spread across his face. Brian glanced back towards the pool. He was glad that the two were separate. He took another swig and excused himself much to Evan’s pleasure.

Luke found Tyler quickly. The two grinned at one another and quickly squared up. Tyler popped his knuckles.

“Well, if it ain't Puke man.”

“Skid mark, long time no see.”

“You have your shirt on still. I'm honestly impressed.”

Ryan rushed forward. He had no intention of breaking the two apart, not yet. Only if it escalated like last time, even though neither ended up getting hurt. Physically that is. Their prides both took a devastating blow. But Ryan knew he could kiss those injuries away with compliments and love.

“I've been waitin’ for you.”

“That's a little gay, dude.”

“You have a boyfriend. He's literally right there.” Tyler pointed past Luke towards Ryan. Luke gave his boy a sweet smile and blew him a small kiss before turning back to Tyler.

“Did I stutter?”

Craig stood besides Ryan. He surveyed the situation at hand. He wanted to die upon recognizing Luke as the “Skid mark” that gave him the name of Barf face, Puke man’s sidekick.

“They aren't drunk, are they?” He asked Ryan tentatively. The older boy laughed lightly and shook his head.

“Not yet. This should still be entertaining none the less, so sit back and enjoy the show.”

Craig didn't exactly want to. He wanted to grab Tyler and pull him away from “Skid Mark” so they could enjoy the rest of the party in peace. But he also knew how stubborn Tyler could be and he knew he wouldn't be able to do a damned thing. With a couple of choice words, he listened to Ryan and leaned back to watch the two.

Bryce had found Marcel and Scotty early on. He prefered their company compared to the others here. They seemed to be the level headed pair, and they weren't exactly all that level headed. Still, they didn't get into drunk fights with Puke man. Or nearly drown in a pool like Jonny. They knew what was crossing the line. He needed a break from the chaos of home.

Just as he'd started to compare them to his other friends, he spotted Luke and Tyler get into another fight. The two were sissy slapping at each other at an arm's distance away, neither of them actually getting anywhere near the other.

Evan had lured Jonny away from the now crowded down stairs. They snuck away inside a guest bedroom. The music, once loud, was strangely muffled. The loud chatter had gone still. They were happily sprawled out on the bed, thumbing through one of the books they'd found.

“Wanna play a game?”

“Sure.”

“We’re gonna take turns flipping to a random page. The last sentence of that page is your sex life.”

“That's retarded.”

Evan chuckled, “I’ll go first then!” He pulled a new book from the shelf and flipped it open. His finger ran through the words hastily until he found the beginning of the last sentence.

“Blood seeped past my fingers.”

“Ew!” His disgust was interrupted by a laugh. “Give me that!” He took the book and turned to a new page. He read it to himself first and laughed, “Ok. I took my sword up in hand, it called to me still.”

“Masturbation!” Evan took the book back and flipped through the pages lazily. He stopped and looked over at Jonny. His eyes lingered on his lips a moment before he forced himself to look back at the book.

“Uh. Right. My vision spun and he vanished.”

“Damn.”

“Jonny?” His heart began to race inside his chest. His own voice suddenly didn't want to be there with him. He wanted to stop while he was ahead. He wanted to find Brock and just cry a bit. He stopped himself from bitching out.

“Yeah?”

“We’re uh, you know you're my best friend, right?”

“Yeah, of course!”

“I'd do anything for you,” he went on, not entirely sure where he was going.

Jonny smiled widely, “I'd do anything for you, too.”

Evan fidgeted a bit. Alarms sounded in his head. Every bit of him was telling him to stop, to forget about it. To give up. For whatever reason he pushed all of that aside, muted the alarms and found his voice again.

“Well then, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything man. Except lick a toilet. Not again, Evan. Never again.”

Evan laughed a bit, Jonny’s small joked and sense of humor easily pushing away his doubts, “I wanna ruin this friendship.”

Jonny’s face fell. He stared dead ahead at Evan. He felt a twist of pain erupt in his chest. Evan took a shaky breath and found Jonny’s hand in his own.

“I wanna be lovers instead.”

Jonny laughed. He wasn't sure why he was laughing. He didn't want to laugh. He wanted to say yes. But he couldn't get himself to do it. He could only laugh and laugh and laugh. He watched Evan’s nervous face dissolve into one of terror. He just couldn't stop laughing. He wanted to scream. It was as if he'd been possessed. It wasn't him. Still he laughed.

He pulled himself off the bed and fled from the room, too scared to stay. He had to get himself to stop laughing.

Ryan had finally stepped in and hesitantly pulled Luke away from Tyler. Craig rushed to distract the other with a quick game of beer pong or strip poker. Tyler readily agreed to either or. He offered Luke a friendly goodbye in the form of half assed insults, of which, Luke quickly returned.

Luke entertained his fingers with Ryan’s and he had no intent of stopping. Not now, not ever. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head and lead him through the crowd to a quieter place. They didn't get much time to talk in private. Ryan’s parents read his every text message, not to mention the fact that they hated Luke for whatever reason. So they highly valued what little time they had together.

“So how about this, we move to Nebraska. Wide open nowhere. Cheaper living. Away from your folks. We can get a small house, a dog, a cat. Maybe a rabbit. Something with a yard and a porch. And a lawn. We can settle down and be happy. Have a family.”

“Which state lets us own a pet tiger?”

“We are not getting a pet tiger.”

Ryan pouted up at him. Luke made a noise and forced himself to look away, “No! Puppy dog eyes are cheating!”

“You're so mean to me,” Ryan sniffled, leading Luke into a side room and closing the door behind them. Luke wrapped his arms protectively around Ryan and the two just scanned the room.

“We could get a place like this. Cozy. Home. Just us two.”

“I want a nice shower though.”

Luke laughed into the side of Ryan’s neck, tickling the other. He moved him towards the bed and carefully set him down. He lay lazily over his lap and there the two stayed.

“A shower? Like what? What kind of shower?”

“I don't know. Something with multiple showerheads and easy to control water pressure and temperature. Something fancy. And roomy enough for two.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow. His smile was hidden but Ryan could see it. He knew it was there. It was always there. Ryan suddenly grinned.

“Maybe with enough room for three.”

“Oh hell no. Three’s a crowd. Besides, your mine and I'm yours.”

“I dunno. Maybe we could invite Jonny over sometime-”

“No! The dude’s like a brother to me!” Ryan laughed. Luke attacked his sides. Ryan fell back, his laughter getting snagged in his throat. He wiggled about in a small attempt to break free from Luke’s torture.

“Who knows man, maybe I'm into some weird shit. You've got a kink, don't you?”

Luke stopped and let Ryan catch his breath. He placed a long and sweet kiss against the other’s lips and pulled back with a smile.

“My kink is running away with you.”

“Sappy. I want to be choked.”

“Ryan!” The giggle he got in return was sinful. Luke felt his heart swell at the sound of it. God he loved this mess.

Stillness interrupted the two for a moment. Ryan’s face grew dark with a new emotion Luke didn't know too well. That was a devious look, the look of an idea. Probably a bad idea in the long run, but a brilliant idea in the moment.

“My parents don't have to know anything. Not about you. Not about us. Nothing. They won't know a thing.”

It clicked. Luke sat up suddenly with a wide grin and began to fumble with his belt buckle. Ryan moved to get comfortable and help Luke. Hands collided in a frenzy of needy touches. Luke’s mouth happily explored every last inch of Ryan’s neck, shoulder, and jaw. Ryan had caught a fist of Luke's hair and gently guided the kisses about. He stopped when he felt something pressed against his butt cheek buzz.

“Shit. It's Bryce.”

“God damn it! I'm half mast-!”

Ryan cut him off with a well timed kiss. He let it linger for a while, savoring the closeness and the intimacy. He released Luke and pushed him up and off.

“It's getting late anyway. I gotta get you both home. Evan said he'd take Jonny home earlier today. Common.”

Luke groaned before he begrudgingly got up to follow after Ryan. What a tease, he thought, and god how he loved it.

Bryce fished his phone out of his pocket. The damned thing was blowing up with a thousand messages from his brothers. At first they'd been nothing but small requests to watch tv or to clarify when bedtime was. Small things he was happy to answer. They'd gotten into a fight. And it wasn't resolving.

He spotted Ryan and quickly flashed an apologetic grin. Ryan easily lead his two friends through the crowd and outside. They climbed into the car.

“What did they do this time?” Luke quipped, careful to keep a joking smile on his face. Bryce groaned louder than he had intended.

“They broke a window. They were spinning each other around and ended up kicking each other. They got into a fight and the youngest pushed the eldest out the fucking window. He's not hurt, thank god, but-!” The couple could only giggle at Bryce’s exaggerated frustration.

“I can help you get a replacement,” Luke assured. Bryce noticeably relaxed upon hearing that.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

Jonny stumbled about the downstairs area. He was desperate to find Ryan and Luke. He needed to speak to them. Maybe not Luke, he already knew what Luke was going to say. He needed Ryan. He needed advice and help. He felt bad for just leaving Evan. He felt he should go back. He was on the brink of panic and he just needed a friend to listen to him.

Brock sat in the pool. Water clung to his hair and stuck his eyelashes together in clumps. He watched Brian through the crowd. His face was painted a drunk pink. A goofy smile toyed with his lips. He was stumbling about and laughing loudly.

He frowned. Brian spotted him and rushed towards the pool as fast as he could. He mumbled small apologies to those he bumped into along the way. Brock moved away from the edge, wading out to the center of the deep end. Brian hopped in quickly and swam after Brock. His arms wrapped around his hips and he lifted him into the air triumphantly.

“Got you!”

“Put me down.”

“That’ll cost you a kiss.”

“You're drunk,” Brock grumbled. Pushing Brian away. He got only a scoff as a response and the grip around him tightened.

“I might be a little bit tipsy.”

“You said you wouldn't drink anymore,” Brock reminded.

“I'm Irish, I can't help it!”

Brock twisted about in a wild attempt to break free with out hurting the other or himself. Brian pulled him further into the water and held him close. Brock could smell the foul scent of the booze Brian had promised to stay away from. He felt like he was drowning in it. He wanted nothing more than to be away from the smell and away from Brian. He let out a squeak when one of Brian’s hands took a fist full of his ass cheek.

“Don't touch me right now.”

“Common baby,” Brian cooed gently, “I didn't drink that much, you're being dramatic.”

Brock took a breath before forcing himself to vanish beneath the surface of the ripples. He pushed through the water and swam as fast as he was capable to get as far from Brian as he could.

“Brock,” Brian groaned, rolling his eyes, “We’re not doing this again.”

Brock climbed out of the pool. He snatched up a towel from the pile he'd brought out before hand. Brian swam to the edge.

“Brock? Brock come back. Brock? God dammit- Brock!” With one swift movement, he was up and out of the pool chasing after his fleeing boyfriend.

Jonny watched after them and felt he was going to be sick. He thought back to Evan and put them and their relationship in place of Brock and Brian’s. What if they ended up like that? Always fighting? He scanned the room for Ryan. He needed some sort of assurance. But neither he, nor Luke could be found.

There was a thud. Instantly he looked towards it. He hoped that someone had just fallen due to being drunk and stupid. Often times that's what normally happened. Still he wasn't surprised at what he'd found.

Brian stood angry and powerful. His fists were tightly clenched at his side, shaking ever so slightly. Brock stared dead ahead, as if he wasn't actually there. Blood clumped at his newly busted lip.

“You always do this! You point out all of my problems and flaws, you give me all of these rules, you get mad at me for every little thing I do, and then you do the same to me, and it's always my fault! You said you wouldn't go near Evan, I said I wouldn't drink. You broke your promise first!”

Veins bulged from his temple and throat. His chest was heaving. He struggled to call himself down. He didn't want to calm down. He wanted Brock to say something, anything. He wanted a reason to hit something. Brock just stared. His face darkened in a way most never would have noticed. The slightest of shift in his eyebrows plastered a new emotion only Brian seemed to recognize and understand.

“Huh,” he hummed softly. And just like that, Brian froze up. His hands unclenched and began to shake now out of fear. He went painfully pale. He took an immediately step back and hunched in on himself.

“I'm sorry! I didn't-”

“No. You're right. You're absolutely right.”

“Brock-?” He took a small step forward, hoping to defuse the situation. He suddenly wanted to fix this.

“We’re through.”

“What?”

“We’re through. We’re done. It's over. I'll get out of your life, you get out of mine. I don't think I need to explain why.”

“Brock-”

“That's final.” Brian flinched back. He searched Brock’s face for any sign of change. When none appeared, he turned slowly and left.

Jonny never feared for his future more than in that moment. Brock and Brian shared the same home life, the same monsters, the same fears. That's how they'd managed to hook up in the first place. They could relate to each other, fall back on each other when they needed to. The other was supposed to always be there to catch them when they fell. Just as Jonny and Evan did. He needed to talk to Ryan. Ryan could help. More so than Luke because Luke was still surprised he got Ryan in the first place, even after a year. Ryan would know. Ryan could help.

Mindlessly he texted him. His thumbs flew over the letters he felt that there was no good way to explain himself nor his worries. He watched the screen in anticipation.

Sent. 10:45pm. Received. Seen. 10:46pm. No response.

Miles away, Ryan had shed himself of his shoes and pants. The blankets were pulled snug around him. He'd gotten home five minutes early. Bryce’s brother was Ok. Luke had kissed him sweetly goodnight and there wasn't an ounce of regret in his mind. He'd fallen asleep quickly, high off happy.

His door busted open. The light from the hallway pooled into his room and bathed him, blinded him. A large shadow stood in his doorway.

“Get out.”

“What?” Ryan sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his palms. A large hand caught his upper arm and yanked him from his bed. Ryan fumbled onto the floor with a wince.

“You're no son of mine.”

“What did I do?” He was given a sharp shove towards the open door before he even had the chance to stand. He struggled to his feet and fled from his room, eager to get away from his father. His mother waited for him in the living room. His father was storming behind him. He was terrified.

As far as he knew, he'd done nothing wrong. Nothing they would have any proof of anyways. He'd been good!

“Do you know what this boy’s done?”

“I haven't done anything!” A hand viciously met his cheek. His mother gave him a harsh glare before turning back to her husband. He tossed her Ryan’s phone for her to read through.

“Oh my god.” She handed the phone back as if it were a burning pan. She stepped away from Ryan and slowly shook her head in shame. He wanted to defend himself but he didn't know what to say or where to start. He had no idea what it was that they were so upset about.

“I have told you time and time again. That Luke boy is the son of a hippy whore. That you aren't to go near him let alone talk to him, and you're fucking him? Not only have you deliberately disobeyed me, you're a god forsaken faggot! I will not have a limp wristed pansy living under my roof. Get. Out!”

He was shoved easily across the living room and out the front door. He staggered in a desperate attempt to catch himself from falling down the stairs. The door slammed shut behind him. He heard the click of the lock. He was cold. He was tired. He was mad. He was confused.

He stared at the door and patiently waited for it to open again. He hoped to God it would open again. He needed it to. When it didn't, he started to cry. They were dead serious. He wished he had his phone so he could call up Luke, ask if he could stay the night. He wished he hadn't taken off his pants. The cold winter wind was ripping his legs apart. He wished he knew how they'd found out. He wished he could go back in time and stop it. But his wishes fell of dying stars too weak to even think about granting them. Slowly, he turned away from the house he was no longer welcomed in and began to walk. He wasn't sure where he was going, he just knew he had to go.

 


	4. Mess

John was sprawled comfortably over Smitty’s legs. His hands had busied themselves with the ends of the blankets he was near drowning in. Smitty had tangled his fingers in John’s hair, silently wishing he wasn't rapidly losing his own. The beeping machines were the only noises left to keep them company, the heavy doors cutting out the mumble of the doctors. 

“They’re not coming today are they?”

“I don't think so. From what I heard, there was a party on Saturday, they were hungover on Sunday, and had stayed up all night to work on homework and woke up too late to get here.” 

Smitty nodded. He opened his mouth to say something when Jay snuck through the door with as much food as he could carry. He set it all down and grinned at the others.

“I found some of our old art projects yesterday when I was helping my dad clean out his office. Look at this old gem.” He pulled a tattered and time bitten paper from his jacket and handed it to John. His face lit up instantly.

“I forgot about this!”

“Wasn't this made back in like the fourth grade?” 

Jay shook his head and flipped the paper to show them the date, “It was made about a week after we met. See?”

“Holy shit!”

“Language!”

“Holy heck!”

Smitty took the drawing back. His eyes followed the yarn they'd used in place of pencil lead or pen ink like most other kids. The paper scraps they'd poorly glued on were mostly gone by now but the ghosts of them still remained. There was a macaroni noodle made back ground that took them hours to do and was all for nothing as mice had clearly gotten ahold of it. Still he loved it. He still loved the memory of it.

In grade school, only Smitty and John shared a class together. Jay was a grade level older. But all grades had lunch at the same time. The grades had their elective classes one after the other. John and Smitty would work on the project together, then Jay would work on it when his art class came about. The piece took them nearly two weeks but they loved it and they were proud of it.

“We should remake it. For old times’ sake,” Jay suggested. John shot up to go hunt supplies down. He doubted he'd find much in a hospital but he'd make do with what he could find. And he did. Using old school work and what ever else was in his backpack and a handful of stolen markers from the children’s wing, he'd collected enough to get started. 

Smitty was ripping the paper into thin ribbons while Jay sketched out the pattern. John was wrestling the tape for the end piece. 

“I can't remember how we met,” Jay admit sheepishly. He'd spent a majority of his days now looking back in time to remember every laugh he had with these two. He wanted to savor them. He felt like a terrible friend for forgetting how they met.

“It was stupid,” Smitty recalled. John snorted in agreement, sitting up once he'd finally found the end of the tape.

“You could say that again. The whole third grade was stupid though so…” The others chuckled. 

Third graders came up with their own form of dating. They knew very well that dandelions were weeds and not flowers but no flowers ever grew near where children stomped. So they counted as flowers. Besides, what flower could turn itself into a balloon of wishes? 

Anyhow, the proper way to court someone was to approach them with a handful of these "flowers" and ask them out. If they said yes, they'd keep the flowers and the two could hold hands at recess. That was third grade dating. And for what ever reason unknown to them, it caught on with the other grade levels as well.

Smitty had met Jay in the hallway. He'd been hopelessly lost and Jay had helped him out. Smitty always had this natural want to make friends with everybody who'd ever been kind to him. He wanted to befriend Jay right away but didn't have the time. The only other time he ever saw Jay was at recess. 

Despite his want to be friends, he was also too shy to approach Jay. After all, Jay was “cool” and “older” and “smart” and would probably turn Smitty down. So John, being the hero in debt that he was at the time, had decided to be Smitty’s knight in shining armor and ask Jay for him.

Smitty had tried to stop John, in his wild attempts he managed to get himself tangled up in the monkey bars. It was a strange talent of his. John would normally help him up, but had decided to use this time to fetch Jay instead. 

Jay was king of the swings. He could swing higher than most everyone else and could jump off and land the farthest without a scratch. He was king! John stood nearby, careful not to get kicked or hit. 

“I got a friend of mine who really likes you,” he started. Jay slowed his swinging and listened to John. It wasn't often a shy girl would send a friend to talk to him. It was flattering in a way. 

“Are they cute?”

John looked back towards Smitty who was currently strangling himself with his jacket and struggling to wrestle his arm free to save himself. He was an alarming shade of pink slowly turning blue. He turned back to Jay.

“I guess.” 

Jay hopped off the swing, pumped full of pride and confidence. The girls he knew suddenly swarmed his head. He hoped it was Rachel, she was sweet, cute, and just the right amount of sassy. 

“Should I bring them flowers?” 

John seemed taken aback a bit. He wasn't used to this whole dating thing that was for some reason super popular. He was startled that this near stranger was willing to date another stranger. Wasn't his problem though.

“Knock yourself out.” 

The second his answer fell from his lips he got a glimpse of the future. He and Smitty had been tight neck close since the start of the year. They really didn't have any other friends. He really didn't have any other friends. He didn't want Jay to step in and take Smitty. The two were suddenly racing to find the best and most suitable flowers to give to Smitty. John refused to be beaten! Jay just figured John was helping.

John rushed back to Smitty, who'd gotten his arms free and was now dangling by his knees and shoe laces. His jacket and shirt were both falling slowly, hiding his face that was now slightly blue but fading. Jay and John both suddenly bombarded him with flowers. 

That was how the three of them became a poly trio on accident. Something that never really stopped as they remained as thick as thieves. They'd joke about their relationship every now and again. Smitty at one point had bought them all ring pops and joked saying that they were engagement rings. John would point out all the pretty dresses and ask if they'd work for their wedding's theme. Jay would tease about how the weather wasn't any good for any sort of wedding. Who wanted to get married when it was snowing? Or windy? Or hot enough to cook an egg? Nobody that's who! 

The three spent hours exchanging stories from their shared childhood. They reminded on the one winter when it just didn't stop snowing. They'd been snowed in at least three days a week every week for a month. The grocery stores were bare. They ate peanut butter jelly sandwiches using hot dog buns as bread. They'd built an army of snowmen during those storms. They used sticks to give them afros. They arranged rocks to make the snowmen frown. The knocked some over to create murder scenes they'd then try to solve. 

Smitty had taught them all how to ice skate that winter. It had been a joy, until the ice broke and John vanished into the freezing waters. Jay had stripped to go and save him, saying that he'd seen someone do it on TV before. The two got super sick. Smitty would read to them by the fire, supplying them with soup and hot cocoa when asked to. 

These stories, the emotions tied to them, the experience of it all, the fact that he wasn't going to be able to make any more, that's why Smitty loved them so much. That was why they were so near and dear. Long after Jay and John left his side he continued to remember everything. 

He remembered how when they'd all finished middle school they were certain that high school was going to be a giant party. He remembered how he'd gotten sick early that summer, and everything just fell down hill from there. His health took from him his ability to get out of bed. It took most of his organs, many of them in need of replacing or they got removed entirely. Still they visited him. They built blanket forts around him. They gave him stories. 

He'd spend hours in adventures. He'd be a king leading his people through war. He'd been a bard who saved the world with the best song in the universe, one that kept the dragon sleeping. He'd been a boy who could travel through time, but only go forwards, never back. He'd been everything and had done everything. 

Death lingered ever near. She wasn't this terrifying being that everyone painted her out to be. She was caring and gentle, like the perfect mother. She liked to call to him gently. She'd hold out her hand and hum for him to take it. There were days where he almost did. She made him feel less afraid. He didn't fear death at all. He didn't fear the afterlife. And as tempting as her offerings sounded, Smitty always drew his hand back and stayed put in his hospital bed. He knew that John and Jay would be there for him the next morning. He didn't want to miss their visit. They were everything to him. 

In the beginning, resisting her cry had been easy. Now the machines buzzed and beeped. He was in and out of surgery. He was losing his hair in clumps. His nails were brittle, his skin was flaky and he was covered in itchy rashes. He had barely any organs left in him that was originally his. He was only getting worse. He hurt. Bruises kept showing up without causes. Treatment was becoming too costly to keep up with it all. He'd not smelled the outdoors in months. 

The cancer had spread from his stomach to his throat and gotten into his lungs. His wheezing did nothing to help him breath. The tubes irritated the tumors the doctors hadn't yet removed. Death whispered kind truths. Come with her, she pleaded, and the pain will stop. He looked to the door, eager and impatient for the next day to arrive so he could ignore death and focus entirely on Jay and John. But death’s song was stronger than he joys of company. Smitty learned that ignoring a problem doesn't make it go away.

John walked down the halls slowly. The other students were excited and ready for winter break soon approaching. Talk of Christmas plans, thanksgiving dinners, and festivities were lively and everywhere. Every radio station was repeating the same old Christmas songs and he was already sick of them. He was sick of everything. Of every one. He found it exhausting how there were so many who could be so happy when there were so many others dying slowly and painfully. 

Jay had thrown himself into his studies. He checked out every medical book the libraries had to offer. He spent every last second of his free time reading them rereading them. He was dead set and determined to become a doctor. 

John was the opposite. He ignored his classes and his class work. He did nothing but write. That's all he could do. He had to keep writing stories. He had to create millions of characters and billions of universes just in case Smitty wanted one. He wanted to be prepared. 

He walked like a zombie down the halls. He fit in just fine with everyone else. The party had done as it always promised. Friend groups were split. New couples were popping up left and right. Older couples were breaking up. There were new rumors, new pictures, new stories. There was a new monthly whore. There was a new playboy. And there was a lot of tension. 

Tyler and Luke had arrived to school roughly at the same time. They greeted each other with their respective nickname and spoke about many things, having become close friends in the span of two days. Their conversation was light hearted and sweet, as if they'd known each other for years. It was a relaxing break from the constant stress of their lives. 

Upon entering the lunchroom, the two went their separate ways. Tyler was pulled away by Evan, who over the weekend had been unusually distressed. Jonny had pulled Luke away, who'd been equally distressed, but less nervous and more angry. 

Luke had been annoyingly kept up for hours, bombarded by a never ending sea of text messages, none of which were in English. Luke had spent most of his Sunday trying to calm his friend down but to no extent. 

The two made their way over to their usual table. Ryan was there, as he always was. Though most of the time he'd be found working on homework, arguing with his parents, and or entertaining himself with a marker of sorts. It was out of character to find him unconscious, smothering himself with a shirt that was too big to be his own. 

He woke up with a start when Jonny slammed his bag down. Luke eyed him carefully, half tempted to start bitching about watching himself. He held himself back. He had no intention of stirring up more stress than how much was already there. He chose instead to sit besides Ryan and offer comfort. 

Ryan forced sleep away with a struggle. His eyes almost refused to open, and when they were open, they did nothing but want to close forever. A yawn threatened him every other second. Luke offered his body as a mattress and his arms as a blanket. Ryan fell into him eagerly. 

“You never answered me, by the way!” Ryan flinched at the harsh snap. Luke pulled him closer, soothing away the mild fear with small kisses to the top of his head. 

“What are you talking about? Answer what?”

“Of fucking course-! You know what? Fuck you!”

Luke felt rage bubble in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to rip Jonny apart. He was sick and tired of his attitude and he wasn't about to let him take it out on his boy. But if he were to get up, he'd leave Ryan. He rather stay instead. Jonny huffed, unable to find any other words to spit. He sat down heavily and ignored the two in front of him. 

Ryan pulled away from Luke, catching by the hand and leading him away. Jonny watched them go. He wanted to scream. Fucking Ryan, flaunting about his happy, healthy relationship. He scanned the lunchroom, his sudden loneliness making him anxious and worried. 

He spotted Evan across the lunchroom rapidly talking to both Tyler and Brock. He had bags under his eyes and looked like a wreck. Jonny felt like a monster for being the cause. But he couldn't bring himself to get up and fix it. He wished Bryce was there. The poor kid got sick. So Bryce wasn't there. Jonny was alone. 

Brian was alone. He wanted to be alone. Marcel had stopped by and offered consolation, but Brian pushed him away. He didn't want any advice from Mr. Perfect. He wanted Brock. He wanted to apologize. He'd tried several times over the weekend. He'd pleaded and begged, but Brock refused to budge. He refused to speak to him at all. It's been dead silence and it's been driving Brian insane. 

He watched Brock all throughout the week. He understood and respected the fact that he needed space, but he still wanted to say something. He wanted things to return to the way they were. 

Despite how often he'd pushed him away, Marcel always stopped by to talk to him. That was Marcel. He was painfully oblivious to the world around him. Probably because his world consisted of his misfit group of friends. Nothing else mattered. And he was tired of watching his friend group dispatch. Seeing as he'd known Brian the longest, he'd flock to him more so than Brock. Besides, Brock was level headed. Brian, especially after the break up, was easily irritable and taking out his anger on anything that moved. 

“When you two broke up the first time, he didn't talk to you for two months,” he reminded. Brian wanted to plug his ears and scream at Marcel to shut up and leave him alone. But Marcel placed him in the distant memory of years ago and there he stayed.

“You thought that he hated you. You told me every day how badly you fucked up, how much you hated yourself. You cried on my shoulder for hours at a time. You'd ask me how he was doing despite the fact that you thought he wanted nothing to do with you. You beat up everyone who said anything bad about him. But not anyone who insulted you. Two months of self loathing and dread. What happened?”

Brian was silent. That break up had occurred shortly before spring in freshman year. Neither could remember what had originally sparked the fight, all they knew was that the other kept pushing and pushing until Brock had enough and called it off. It had been the longest two months of Brian’s life. School let out and Brock had done his best to actively avoid Brian at all costs. 

Finally, on the third of July, Brian caught Brock alone in the parking lot of the abandoned K-Mart. He wanted to yell at Brock for making him go insane. He wanted to scream and rip out his hair. He didn't. He didn't have the chance to. Brock got up and started to run. For whatever reason, Brian chased after him. When he caught up, he spat question after question, all stemming from the pain in his heart that never did heal over. And Brock gave his best answers. Finally he broke down into tears, admiring that the reason he'd stayed away was because he knew that if he came back, they'd get back together again. 

“We apologized. He bought us dinner. I asked him out again. We talked. We made agreements. Things got better,” he answered after a while. Marcel grinned.

“Things got better. Just you wait. Brock’ll come back around. He always does. He loves you. Just as much as you love him. So do him a favor and give him the time and space to realize that on his own.”

Brian watched Marcel go. He didn't want to listen to him, but he was right. Marcel was always right. So Brian stiffened his upper lip and listened for once. Decided that Marcel was spot on. Brock would come back one day.

The days were growing darker. The sun was setting faster. The winds were vicious and snow was falling every other hour. Everyone was tired and grumpy. The only light they had was the fact that winter break would be here soon. They could sleep through their new found seasonal depression and eat themselves to death. Luke knew right away that it wasn't going to be a good day the second he watched the clouds devour the last of the sun for the rest of the week. 

Jonny was actively avoiding him now. After the last Monday, after he got snapped at, he'd decided that everyone was against him, Luke, Ryan, his parents, everyone, and he wanted no part in any of it. He fled to hide. He wanted to hide in the library, but that was where the broken hearted Evan stayed, seeking company from Brock, Nogla, and Marcel. Having lost his sanctuary, Jonny decided to quit showing up to school at all. His grades were plummeting, he felt friendless. What was the point any more? 

Luke said nothing as Jonny stepped out and away from the picture. He's done this before once during sophomore year. He came back, he always came back, it took the coaxing of Evan to do it, but he came back. Luke was certain that he'd come back again.

For now, Luke wasn't concerned with Jonny. Jonny could always text and call him. They could pop up at the other’s house out of nowhere and call it a normal day. The chances were that he'd see Jonny later that day, they'd go stop by the nearest 7-Eleven and chat over a slurpee. He wasn't worried about Jonny, he'd figure things out on his own as he always had before.

Luke was far more worried with Ryan. He was losing weight and sleep. His clothes were worn and he was in dire need of a shower. He could stay awake during his morning classes and would often show up to school in two different work uniforms. Unlike Jonny, Luke couldn't text or call Ryan. Ryan didn't have a phone, not any more. And even when he did, Luke wasn't allowed to talk to him. Luke had no way of knowing what on earth was happening with his Ryan outside of school. He clung like a needy girlfriend to his side at every given opportunity.

He walked him to class, to the food trucks, to his locker, everywhere. He'd ditch his class just to go find Ryan, who'd have an off period at that time. He'd ignore everyone else around him and listen to Ryan babble on and on.

Ryan stopped at his locker. Luke stood by, arms crossed and back turned towards Ryan, as if to protect him. A bodyguard of sorts. The two were silent for a second. Then Ryan spoke. His voice severed the silence the way a rusted blade saws through frozen ham. 

“I'm dropping out.”


	5. Going Under

"You're what?” The sentence was a slap in the face. Ryan emptied his bag and tossed it all in the nearest waste bin. He took his folded work uniform that he “didn't have time to home and change into” and stuffed them in the now empty pockets.

“I got a second job. Can't do both, Luke.”

“Your parents are going to kill you-!”

“You have no idea,” Ryan grumbled under his breath. He shut his locker and was startled to find Luke fuming. His face was red. He rushed to the trash bin and quickly began to try and rescue the papers and notebooks.

“Dropping out my ass! There ain't no way in hell I’m letting that happen.” He thrust the papers at Ryan, a silent demand for him to take them back. Red and blue ink scribbled messily at the tops of all of them, near perfect scores. Ryan stared at them longingly. He pushed them away, placing his hands gently on Luke’s cheeks.

“I'm taking my GED this Saturday. Don't think of it as dropping out so much as graduating early.”

He took the papers and placed them with their sisters in the trash hesitantly. Luke caught his arm and swung him around. 

“Did you even stop to think about what you're doing? Do you know what you're throwing away? You are easily passing all of your classes, you have scholarships falling out your ass, you have a future paved bright and new for you and you're throwing it, all of it, in the garbage like it's nothing! There are kids here who'd kill to be where you are. I'd kill to be where you are! A job isn't worth sacrificing your future, god damn it!”

Luke forced himself to loosen his grip on Ryan’s shoulder. He wanted to make it perfectly clear that he wasn't mad at Ryan. No way. He could never be. He was just pissed that Ryan had an amazing opportunity and life ahead of himself, something Luke didn't exactly have, something Luke craved more than anything else and regretted missing out on, and he was tossing it out. He wasn't mad at Ryan. He took a breath and stepped back.

“It's your last year of high school. You're almost done. Dropping out now is like running a marathon and quitting when you're two feet away from the finish line.”

“It's not like that-”

“It's stupid! You're being stupid! Ryan, look at how well you're doing. Look at how far you've gotten. Look at what lies ahead of you. You're being stupid,” he shouted. His voice was rising at an alarming rate. Ryan stepped forward, eager to call him down before they attracted any unwanted attention from staff and students alike. He pulled Luke into a hug, something that never failed to quiet him before. He shushed him gently.

“You're beings selfish. What about me? Did you ever think about me when you decided this?” His voice was much softer than it had previously been, muffled by a sudden knot in his throat. He hugged Ryan back, pinning him in place and keeping him there for as long as he could. “You're the only thing here that makes me happy.”

Ryan pulled away after a second or two. He took Luke’s hand and lead him outside where they could shout all they wanted and not disturb classes.

“I did think of you. I thought about how this place is the only place I can be with you, hold you, and talk to you. I thought about how much I love it when you show up with your big goofy grin. I thought about how when we’d first met, you'd been flicking wadded up scraps of paper at me and it took me weeks to figure out they were notes. I love how you never stopped flicking notes at me. I love how you smile when you see me as if you're seeing me for the first time. I love seeing you first thing in the morning even though you don't have a first period class. I thought about how dropping out would mean sacrificing all of that. And it broke me.”

“Then don't drop out,” Luke whined. He stopped walking, much to Ryan’s displeasure. Ryan sighed heavily. 

“Would it be easier if we broke up?”

Luke felt time just stop. His mind ran in ten different directions and his emotions went wild. He wanted to start screaming and cry and beg Ryan not to say such things all at once but he couldn't do a damned thing. 

“Don't be ridiculous,” he finally managed. God he hoped this was all a joke, a horrendously mean joke. Ryan smiled with a gentle nod.

“On my days off, I'll stop by and pay you a visit. I promise. Will that make it better?”

“Yes,” he lied through his teeth. He took Ryan’s hand back in his and clung to him. He hoped that if he held on long enough, he could change Ryan’s mind and keep him. That's all he wanted.

Brock found himself following Evan to the library during lunch. Normally, he'd meet with Brian at the nearest corner store and the two would spend their lunch tossing skittles at the other when they least expected it. But he couldn't bring himself to see Brian. 

He clung to Evan as a result. He knew he was being selfish with his new found company. He knew Brian hated it when he was near Evan. He tricked himself into believing that he was hanging out around Evan to help his friend get over Jonny’s rejection. 

Evan greatly welcomed the company. He was heart broken that Jonny had laughed in his face then refused to answer his texts. He wanted to talk to Jonny and try to save their friendship. He wanted to go back in time and stop himself when he still had the chance. 

He felt bad for hiding away in the library. He felt selfish. Jonny loved the library every bit as much as Evan did. There had been days when Jonny had stopped by and looked as if he intended to use the library as the espace it had always been, but then he'd catch the sight of Evan and turn tail and take off. Evan had at first gotten up to chase after him. But Jonny didn't want to be talked to. He was gone before Evan could even get out the doors. 

Evan had never before felt so lonely. He couldn't have been more thankful for Brock in that moment. Brock was thankful he had Evan as a distraction.

Time was a phantom of a mistress. She liked to toy with people. She was a spirit uncontrollable and immortal. Everything she touched died. And she touched everything she could get her hands on.

Time is often against people. Everyone's always pressed for time. Running out of time. For Smitty, his time was just about up. The mess he'd taken took the world away from him and threw him face first into a mess of hallucinations. 

A pale white moon was suspended in the air by a rusted chain. The wind was made of sirens whistling out sad songs. The walls he had been surrounded by were made of paper and plastic and were eroding away. His heartbeat was a monster in his chest, pacing back and forth inside it's cramped cage. He stared ahead of himself at the lake that stretched on and on and on. It's surface bobbed with bloated corpses. The temperatures were steadily dropping. His hospital gown was too thin to offer any warmth. And suddenly he wasn't in the hospital. He was at the mouth of an endless cave where death hid away. 

He knew this day would come. He knew that his fairy tale fantasy was doomed to shatter eventually. He knew that there were stories that didn't get their happy endings. Just as there were stories that never quite ended either. But every good story had a climax. The hero would face their demons, they must fight the villain, whatever it is. He sucked in his fear and stepped proudly into the cave.

Eyes aligned the wall and watched him walk. His shadow stayed behind, unable to conjure the courage to follow after him. The walls grew wider and gave way to an arena. It was surrounded by hollow, ghostly figures. Death stood in the center, her scythe glimmering shiny and bloody. He stepped carefully into the pit. The sand gave way to a water so thick it was slime, and so dark it was ink. 

She gave him only a sad grin and offered up her hand one last time. Smitty found his muscles moving for him. His hand reached up and out against his will. He could hear the wind whispering its poisonous promises and his ears greedily listened.

“With enough determination and over confidence, you can do anything,” Tyler had said. That had been the first thing he'd said to him. Smitty turned towards the voice. It was far too close for it to have been in his head. Sure enough, there stood Tyler, suffocating in bubble wrap just as he had been the day they'd met. His skull helmet was cricked and damaged. His lip was busted open and his nose was a fountain of blood. He turned to grin at Smitty, slapping him on the back. “You just have to be brave enough.”

“The only one who can tell you what to do is yourself. Every one can yell at you, scream at you, bitch at you. But you don't have to listen. They can't make you do anything you don't want to.”

He turned now to find Jay, laying lackadaisical back. He was fidgeting with the detention slip he'd been rewarded after arguing with their homeroom teacher. 

“If you love it then it's worth fighting for.” Craig stepped into view, knuckles bruised and busted open. His face was still red from exhaustion and heat. He'd been outside all day chasing after the monster who stole his dog. 

“Don't be afraid to say no sometimes. It's your life. You do with it as you want. You don't exist to please others.” John was slathered in mud. So much so, he couldn't open an eye. It hid away the bruises he'd gotten that afternoon when a team of nine other students jumped them for Smitty’s lunch money, of which he never had to begin with. 

Death remained in place, hand still patiently outstretched. Her grip on her scythe had grown to the point her bony knuckles looked as if they were about to pop. Smitty let his hand fall back to his side. He took a defensive step back to join the phantom figures of his friends. He wasn't dying. Not today.

“We invent our own villains. Our strengths will always be our weaknesses. Our villains will always be our heroes, simply distorted.” Ryan’s voice was startling. The art show they'd met in hadn't been going to well. Smitty had been ready to quit. Yet this stranger had stopped him, chatted with him, and bought something from him just to keep his hopes up. 

“You can't see your future or it's accomplishments. So look back onto the past to see your progress and use it to get further.” Marcel had found Smitty lying in a heap of wheezes besides the track. He’d been a godsend. 

“Sometimes it takes a good fall to see where you really stand.” Brian had pulled him out of a fight and treated him to lunch. He couldn't possibly forget the day he'd made the school delinquent proud. 

He wanted to make everyone proud. He wanted to prove to everyone that these words they'd spoken, he'd listened. He always listened. 

“One day you'll learn that you can't fight your inner demons. But you can get them to side with you.” Lui handed him the rusted pipe and stepped back. Smitty had taken that pipe and proceeded to beat the shit out of anything he could. There had been no better place to do so other than the junkyard. 

Death stayed silent. She watched as more figures continued to pop up. Their words repeating annoyingly, their voices bouncing off the walls. All of them soldiers to stand against her. 

“You can't live your whole life a pacifist. Sometimes you have no choice but to fight.” Brock wrestled his lighter and needles from his pencil bag and reached out expectantly for the thread. He rolled up his shirt and began to patch himself up. 

They were right. They were all right. He turned to glance back at where he'd come from. But the cave’s entrance was gone. He was trapped. There was no peaceful way to get out of this one. 

Life, he decided, was worth fighting for. Death couldn't tell him what to do, no matter how sinister she appeared. His friends were reason enough to refuse to follow her. His life was his, and he knew it wasn't done yet. He hadn't yet lived. He'd be damned if this bitch thought she could just pop up and take it from him. This was his life. These were his friends, these were his memories and momentoes. He couldn't ignore her anymore. This was his life and god damnit he was going to fight for it. The pain was proof he was alive. He could feel the unbearable burn in his chest and he knew he was still breathing. The cancer that had taken so much from him was there, a grotesque beast ever looming and ever shifting and ever growing, now standing guard, ready to follow his every given order. Without him, it dies too. He'd beaten it this far, he knew he could keep going.

He reached for the moon. His fingers wrapped around the chain and he yanked it from the sky. He'd wake up in the morning, he'd make sure of it. Death frowned at the sight. She began to circle him slowly, trying to size him up. He span to remain in a battle ready stance just in case she lunged at him. And when she did, he was ready. She thrust her scythe at him. He brought the moon about and crushed her with it. She let out a scream that turned into a sour laugh.

She pushed the moon out of her way and turned away from him. She took up her scythe and swung it violently, the cold metal catching Lui. He shattered like glass, his voice falling silent. The cancer hissed in pain. Smitty watched as it glitched before turning towards him with a snarl. Death raised her weapon high into the air. She aimed it at Marcel. Smitty rushed to try and save him. The cancer pounced, tackling him to the ground. He heard Marcel snap and his voice vanished.

One by one death erased his friends from the picture, the strength they'd given him flickering out like candles in the wind. Nevertheless he continued to get back up. After every slash, after every punch, blow, lunge, and swipe. He'd tumble and fall and collapse time and time again. He'd get up every time. The moon was cracking. It's chains were weakening. It was growing too heavy for him to lift anymore. And death danced around him, alive and triumphant. She proceeded to just tease him. She shoved him, pushed him, kicked him. He couldn't react fast enough to stop her. He could only get back into his feet in time for her to throw him off of them again. 

The waters he was fighting in slowed his movements. They made his cloths heavy. It clung to his skin, draining it of all its color. It pulled at his legs and wrestled him down, refusing to let him up. He struggled against its tight hold. He rolled about and thrashed viciously. He grew tired and he grew tired quickly. Eventually his thrashing turned to squirming and he fell still, too exhausted to keep going. 

Death stepped ever closer. She stared at him a moment. He closed his eyes. He'd tried, god knows he tried. He put up his best fight, honest he had. He didn't have anything left in him. He knew he lost. Granted he knew he'd lost the second he stepped into the cave. He heard the swoosh of her scythe as it was raised above her head. He felt the weight of it as it fell and dug deep into his chest, shattering his ribs and splintering his heart. 

The machine besides him let out a long, sad, and desperate cry. The doctors rushed in and threw themselves into their late night work, trying their hardest to revive him.

“You can't win all the time,” Nogla had reminded. Smitty had lost at UNO. That was it. Now the words floated inside his head one last time and relief overwhelmed him. He sighed happily and the moon’s light went out. The beeping stopped. The pain was gone. The doctors grew frantic. Then they, too, stopped.

“Wanna see my mom’s dick? Ha! Look at your face! Man, I caught you way off guard with that one, didn't I? Don't let any one catch you off guard. Expect the unexpected always! Ok, no but seriously, look at this thing its huge! Ha! Got you again!” Evan then followed him around with ten thousand jokes he was eager to try out. Smitty had expected this moment to come for a long time. He just didn't think it'd come so soon. It was too soon. That was his last thought. He wasn't ready to die yet. He wasn't ready. Not yet.

“Time of death, 2:17 am, December 14th,” one of the doctors declared softly into the silence. He knew he was a fool for thinking he could fight death. But at least he tried. The others would have been proud.


	6. Quiet

Jonny had grown near mute in the past couple weeks. Ever since the party, Luke found it a tough task to get the boy to speak or even acknowledge him. Dark skies were all that he could see ahead. He wasn't sure there was a sun anymore. He felt that he was losing everything. He had a world in the palms of his hands. At one point it was solid and perfect. Now it was nothing more than sand slipping past his fingers. 

He didn't bother with music. Not that morning. He let the two of them fall instead into the endless pit that was their thoughts. 

That morning, their table was empty. There was no body hunched over, struggling to stay awake. There was only a barren table. Jonny took a seat hesitantly. He hadn't exactly been on speaking terms with Ryan but he still cared. He still worried. It was an odd phenomenon that he wasn't there. There's been a time when he was sick, unable to hold down food and water, and he still showed up to school despite Luke’s commands that he stayed home. It took the end of the world to keep him home.

“He ok?” He asked carefully. Luke took a seat in his usual place. It was startling expecting someone to be there and finding yourself alone. Jonny sat down hesitantly. “Hey, what happened between you two?”

“Nothing. Don't worry about it,” Luke snapped back. 

“Did something go wrong-?”

“I said it's nothing! Nothing's wrong.” Luke ripped his note book from his bag and threw himself into the work before him. Jonny put aside his own issues for the time being.

“No. Something is wrong. Are you mad at him? What did he do? I'm certain that whatever it was, the two of you can work it out. Nothing’s stopped you before-”

“Just drop it, Jonathan!” Luke’s voice caught the ceilings above and bounced back, silencing the cafeteria instantly. All eyes lingered on them for a moment. Luke watched Jonny’s concern melt away into hurt. He groaned as guilt washed over him.

“He dropped out.”

“Oh shit, for real? So he's dead then. His parents are going to kill him. You probably told him that, didn't you?” Luke nodded. “So you're mad he didn't listen to you. You're mad he's not here. Ok. See? Was that really so hard?”

“Can it.” Luke was sharp with his warnings. This was exactly why Jonny prefered talking to Ryan. Luke didn't understand his emotions. Ryan not only understood them, he could explain them to others and relate. 

Jonny fell quiet again for a moment. He didn't like when Luke was mad. He was more likely to punch someone. 

“Evan asked me out at the party,” he began when the silence hurt too much to stand. Luke looked up, his anger vanished and a wide grin caught his features.

“I told you! Ha! I called that shit months ago. So? What did you say?”

“I laughed and ran.” He felt shame boil in his blood. He picked at the scab on the back of his hand he gotten from a bike crash. He could feel Luke’s expression, he didn't want to look up and conform his suspicion that his friend was gawking at him. 

“You. Are. An. Asshole.”

“I know! I know. I texted Ryan asking for help and advice. Bitch left me on read. I panicked-I just-! I don't know what to do.”

“K, so first off, never call Ryan a bitch in earnest like that again. Secondly, talk to him you prick! You did to him what Ryan did to you, you left him on read.”

Jonny nodded, letting the words sink into his skull. They ran around in circles and he took a moment to memorize them. He should talk to Evan. 

He pushed himself away from the table, leaving Luke alone. He made his way to the library, where Evan liked to hide these days. As always, he was there, seated in his usual seat at the farthest table. Brock was besides him, talking quietly. Even from a distance, Jonny could see the stars in Evan’s eyes. He could see his face light up whenever Brock laughed or made a pun. And for whatever reason, that made him hesitate. 

What if he went over there and Evan no longer wanted to talk to him? What if he'd waited too long to fix things? Maybe Brian had been right to worry about how close Brock and Evan were. 

He just watched the two for a second longer. He caught and held memories of Evan’s smile, something he knew he lived but was too scared to ask for. He turned away. Maybe it was better this way. 

Craig stared at the messages he'd received that night. His eyes caught every word, but his brain refused to understand. He wasn't sure why he felt numb. When you find out one of your closest friends just died, shouldn't you be sad? Craig couldn't feel anything. He didn't want to feel anything. 

He got out of bed that morning like a zombie. He followed everything by his usual routine. He didn't let himself think of anything else. He knew that the second he tore himself away from routine, he'd only think of what happened. He'd break. So he didn't think about it at all. He thought about how hot the water was. He thought about where his shoes were, he thought about traffic. He thought about how quiet Tyler was. 

Upon arriving to school, he felt eyes follow him. In a small town such as this one, news traveled quickly. It seemed every student, every teacher even, stared at Craig, Tyler, John, and Jay with the same look, the same stupid, apologetic look. He pretended that they weren't directed towards him. Why would they be?

Nothing reached him all throughout the day. Every word spoken to him wasn't head. Every counselor he was told he could talk to was ignored. Time itself had stopped moving. 

He didn’t let himself notice anything. He went home, did his homework. He let his mind focus on his homework. He let himself stay busy with anything. He cleaned his room, he did his laundry, he rearranged his small bookshelf. He went to bed exhausted and still as numb as when he'd started his day. 

Sleep had been an escape he didn't remember when he woke up. He kept from bed to get ready, excited and happy because it was Friday. Tyler would be waiting for him. They'd get to visit Smitty. He froze in his place. His mind lingered on the messages he'd read the previous morning. His eyes slowly climbed their way from the floor towards his window. Tyler’s car wasn't there. Smitty was gone. 

The numbness he'd kept all of yesterday suddenly vanished. He felt everything. His hands shook at his side. He couldn't breathe. He was suddenly more tired than he ever thought he could be. Like his body was a giant sack filled with sand and cement just weighing him down. 

He felt lost. His usual routine was no longer there to help him. He couldn't remember it anymore. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to go. He wanted to find his parents, but they were at work by now and wouldn't be home till late. He couldn't bring himself to look at his phone. He knew that the first thing he'd see would be those messages. He didn't know what to do.

The confusion was slowly overwhelmed with sadness. He could do nothing but sob. He held his knees close to his chest, in a desperate need for a hug but alone. He wanted to be close to someone. He wanted to go back in time to try and do something to stop everything. He wanted to be numb again. 

His thoughts ran in sloppy, destructive circles. He couldn't live without his friends. He loved them too much.

Tyler had woken up that morning already aware that something was wrong. He tried to play it off as the news he'd received yesterday. He tried to play it off as his uncomfortable instinct to get in his car and get to the hospital like he always had on Fridays. But the feeling didn't stop. Something was wrong. 

Somehow, even when he knew he wasn't going to the hospital, even though his routine was broken, he found himself in his car following it still. He stopped by a fast food place and ordered the usual. He drove quietly to Craig’s to pick him up. He stopped in front of the house and waited as he always did. When time continues to pass and Craig was once again a no show, he laid down on the horn. Usually that would trigger some sort of movement inside the house. Nothing. No curtains rustling. No lights. Nothing. Something was wrong.

It was that thought that pulled him from his car. It was that thought that landed him at Craig's door. He knocked, hoping that maybe the sudden change in pace would startle Craig into getting his ass up and in gear. He received no response. Only dead silence. He sighed heavily and moved over to the porch swing. He lifted up the far right cushion and plucked the extra key from its hiding place. He pushed the door open and was greeted by a dark silence. 

It was as if no one was home. There lacked any sign of life. A paper lunch bag still sat in the table with a lowly handwritten note by mom. Something Tyler knew she only did when she knew her baby boy was hurting. Craig loved the little paper bags. They were like care packages. She always knew how to get him to feel a little bit better. It was a joy to find that bag. So it was beyond odd to find it still on the table. If his parents had driven him to school, he wouldn't have forgotten the bag.

Tyler made his way to Craig’s room. The door was wide open. The room was vacant. His bed was a mess, but that wa the only real proof that he was there at some point. His shoes were still near the door. He was home. That meant that he was home!

He checked the basement, a common hang out they'd occupy over weekends and after school. Maybe he'd passed out watching his favorite movie again. Maybe he got stuck in the broken laundry room again. That door really needed to get fixed. Empty. Both empty. 

Concern pushed Tyler to further explore the rest of the house. He checked the guest room, he knocked on the parent's door, he scanned the garage. His head all along the way was making up reasons and excuses. His voice ripping apart the silence with his friend’s name. It was never answered. 

He checked the bathroom. He knocked gently, “Hey, you in there buddy? What’d you do, fall asleep on the toilet again?” Again there was no response. He pushed the door open easily just to confirm that this room, too, was empty. It wasn't.

The bathtub was filled to the brim. Craig had pushed himself as far below the surface as he could. His eyes were clamped shut. He was doing his best to block out the world. He was turning a dangerous shade of blue. 

Tyler wasted no time reaching into the freezing water and snatching Craig up by his sleeves. He heaved his friend up in a panic. The boy promptly began coughing up his lungs. Tyler wrapped his arm under Craig’s armpit to keep the boy from sink back into the water and waited for him to catch his breath.

“What the hell is this?” Craig didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He wasn't entirely sure either. Tyler refused to take the silence for an answer.

“What the fuck, Craig?” He fumbled around the water for the drain stopper. He chucked it across the room and searched Craig’s face for an answer. Craig was still unable to find his tongue. He just cried instead. Tyler felt his anger and panic subside. He pulled Craig closer and let him cry. Craig tried to explain himself between the hiccups and past his sobs. Tyler listened to each broken word. He let Craig unload everything. He held him. When Craig had calmed down enough, Tyler pulled a way to look him in the eye.

“I'm not going to sit here and preach to you about how stupid suicide is. I'm not gonna guilt trip you. I'm not going to argue against your emotions right now. What I will say is that it's understandable, what you're feeling right now. And I wish you wood have told me before you tried something so drastic. And I don't exactly understand you right now, but I'm not going to judge you for it, or ignore it. So let's get you out of this bathtub, into some dry cloths, and then we’re going to talk for a bit, ok?”

Craig nodded. He followed Tyler out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom. Tyler sat on the bed and waited for Craig patiently. He took the wet cloths and tossed them in the laundry room. When Craig was ready, the two sat down. 

They ignored time and school. They sat and talked softly. Tyler gently lead Craig through his own thoughts, nudging him to explain them, leading him quietly towards solutions. By the end of the fifth hour, it had been decided that Craig didn't have to live in this planet if he didn't want to. So therefor he had to want to. He had to want to live for something; an idea, or a being of sorts. What that thing was exactly, was completely up to Craig. Hed placed his reason to live in the form of his dog and Tyler. Slowly he manages to place a reason to live behind almost everything. The little care packages his mom makes, the old lady he waves to everyday on his way home from school, and even the janitor who wanted to be a comedian. 

It had been decided that if and when Craig ever had these thoughts and actions again, that he'd tell someone. Anyone. Just as long as someone knew. 

And it had been decided that this was a thing that his parents needed to know about. He'd been scared if that part, but Tyler had convinced him that they deserved to know. They were the ones most capable of helping him. To keep this a secret would be to turn away the biggest help he could get. 

Then the two didn't go to school. They took the day off, alerting both sets of parents. They'd understand. They spent the rest of their day watching movies Craig enjoyed and creating life long plans. At some point, they'd turned off the tv and Tyler just told stories.


	7. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more triggering than the other chapters, just a quick warning, sorry

Marcel had struggled to balance his collapsing friend group and his school work in his already busy schedule. He didn't exactly have many friends and it scared the shit out of him seeing the group he found fall apart at the seams. He couldn' remember when they had been so divided. He found it devastating how little he saw of the once familiar faces. He wasn’t a fan of how people he loved kept blinking out of his life. 

Brian ditch more often than not. The rare days he did show up it was to mooch lunch off of others. Brock hid away in the library with Evan. Tyler and Craig had been noticeably absent from most of the group activity. Nogla and Lui hated how slow things had become so they took of to have their own little adventures. Marcel was stranded with Scotty, who was getting ready to go on vacation for the winter break. Soon it would be just him. 

That's why he sought Brock out. He was desperate to fix the situation at hand. He just wanted his friends back. Out of all of them, Brock was most likely to listen, and the others were more likely to listen to Brock. 

He found Brock where he usually found Brian, loitering around the back of the school, in the near abandoned parking lot. He had a blank stare, his eyes watching nothing in particular. He didn't acknowledge when Marcel took a seat besides him. 

“I saw Nogla and Lui take off in their truck. They said something about frogger and that one busy intersection off of Hemming and Floyd,” he informed instinctively. Marcel spared a nervous glance towards the general direction of the road. He pushed the given information to the side for the time being.

“You slept in the park again last night, didn't you?” Brock’s hand flew to his neck. It was still sore from the park bench. Not exactly the most comfortably bed in the world. Better than a sewer. Marcel watched him a moment.

“Why didn't you just go to Brian’s?”

“I can't go to Brian-”

“Bullshit.” Brock met Marcel’s eyes quickly. There weren't many who could see past Brock’s defenses. Not many knew him well enough. Evan couldn't, and he knew Evan since they were toddlers. He'd only met Marcel two years ago, but here he was, so used to the pile of shit that was this broken friend group that he saw when there was a problem before anyone else was willing to admit it. He fidgeted uncomfortably.

“I don't want to.”

“Why not? You have before,” Marcel reminded gently. Brock let out an aggravated sigh.

“I don't want to be like my uncle. I don't want to keep hurting him. I don't want him to keep hurting me. I don't want to keep going back to a relationship I know is unhealthy.” Marcel listened, he thought back to the party and the spectacle he'd just missed. 

“Maybe you two shouldn't date. That's fine. But you still rely on each other. You still need each other. Talk to him at least. Save the friendship the two of you started out with. Make it healthy again.”

“Evan won’t like that-”

“Who gives a shit what Evan likes? Are you Evan? Last time I checked, you were Brock and Evan was Evan. This isn't about what Evan likes, this is about what you want, what you should do. This is about you.” 

He caught Brock in a side armed hug and pulled him close a second. That last sentence was one they both knew needed to be said more often. Brock was quiet a moment. He stared off into the skyline and listened to Macrel’s breathing. He pulled away after a moment. 

“Do you know where Brian is? I gotta go talk to him.” Marcel grinned and gave Brock a soft push.

“Where is he normally?” 

Brock smiled warmly before climbing to his feet and walking off. Marcel watched him go well aware that the boy wouldn't be returning to finish the school day. He shook his head slightly, Brock was going to regret that when he got home. 

He pushed himself to his feet and headed back inside. He'd done his job. Now he just hoped Brock could do his. Maybe they could still fix this.

Brian didn't like most places. He hated public places because everyone gave him funny looks. He hated isolated places because of how filthy they usually were. Lui favored the junk yard, the perfect home to stupid stunts, Marcel favored a field of sorts where he could kick a ball around, Tyler prefered shopping centers where he could make jokes off of advertisements and products and get Craig to laugh. Brock liked the abandoned carwash. 

They'd met at the car wash. It was the perfect place to run away to. It had been raining. Brian had come home from school to find that his parents had locked him out again. He didn't want to sit around in the rain and get soaked. He spotted the car wash a couple blocks back. The paint on the cement walls was peeling, the parking lot was rotting, the windows were bathed in neon spray paints in oddly shaped letters that no one could read. The door was left slightly ajar. 

He ran there because he figured he had no better place to go. He was startled to find that he wasn't alone when he did finally get there. Brock was sitting in the far back of the small office tending to some fresh burn blisters along his ribs.

Brian wasn't a fan of strangers, especially when he had a chance of seeing the stranger again later at school. He hated people. He didn't trust them. But he trusted Brock the second he realized what the burns were from. He approached slow and quiet so as not to startle the boy and sat down across from him.

“What type of cigarettes were they?”

“Marlboro, the kind in the red packaging,” Brock answered instantly. Brian nodded.

“Those smell.”

“They all smell,” Brock chuckled under his breath. He winced when he smeared the antibiotic cream over the burns. He whipped the rest of the ointment off on his ripped jeans and hunted down his bandages.

“How new are those?” 

“Fifteen minutes old,” Brock estimated. He struggled to get the stupid plastic off the adhesive glue then off his fingers. He slid the band-aid over the burns and pulled his shirt back down to hide them away. 

He turned to Brian with a welcoming grin.The kind of grin you only give out when you make an obscure reference and some stranger gets it. That little grin of appreciation and slight excitement. The grin you give when you understand someone. 

“Where are yours?”

Brian lifted up his shirt and struggled to turn where the stranger could see his matching scars, “Shoulder blades.” He let his shirt fall and fixed himself, “How'd you earn them?”

“Rolled my eyes. You?”

“Didn't fetch the next beer fast enough.” The two were quiet. 

In that moment, they knew that they weren't strangers to each other. They were cut from the same cloth. Pieces to same sad puzzle. They understood the other better in that singular exchange than most people understood others after knowing them for years. 

“I'm Brock.”

“Brian.” 

Brian pushed past the busted door and stepped into the small office where they'd met. He could still picture Brock in the far back with his little stolen first aid kit patching himself back up. He could still hear their questions and answers.

“Mom, dad, or both?”

“Uncle. Mom and Dad travel. Let me guess, Mom only hits you when she's drunk, but Dad has a temper?”

Brian nodded. He wasn't sure why he was smiling. He knew that abuse wasn't something to smile at, but it was the fact that some one else understood his pain that took the edge off things. 

“It's our little secret?”

“Nah. Who the fuck’s going to buy your crock of shit.”

“Filthy liar.”

“Worthless bitch.”

“Better off dead.”

“Biggest mistake in life was keeping you.”

“Tell ‘em you tripped.”

“You're just saying that to get attention.”

“Tell a soul and I'll slit your throat in your sleep.”

“Nobody cares.”

“Quit being dramatic.”

“Quit your fucking crying.”

“Who’s going to stop me.”

The listing went on and on. Common phrases they heard. Common threats. Common actions. Words that continued to pop up as time passed. Brian hated to admit it, but nothing had changed in those three years. 

Since then, however, they'd turned this little abandoned car wash into a sanctuary. They had hidden away a handful of blankets, some food, water, and Brock’s first aid kit never left this place. In a strange way, this little car wash was home. 

He moved to sit where he always had since the first day he'd walked inside. His fingers traced along the wall of memories. 

“That looks infected.”

“I've had worse.”

“Please let me clean it?”

Every spoken word was written in the grooves of the paint. Every memory was painted in the dirt caked to the floor. Every smile exchanged was a crack in the crumbling ceiling. Every night spent together was another unsuspecting car passing. 

“I thought I'd find you here,” Brock interrupted. Brian turned towards the boy in the door. They locked eyes. Nothing had changed at all. They still saw someone they'd known forever, there was no stranger set before them. 

The two moved to their usual places and took a seat across from each other just as they always had. They just watched each other a moment, looking for the best way to start things.

“You slept in the park again last night didn't you?” 

“I knew that you'd be sleeping here,” Brock mumbled. He hated the way that sounded. Brian confirmed the statement with a small nod.

“Uncle Asshat have another bad day at work?”

“Lost his job. Mom remember she never wanted you?”

“She caught Dad with another woman.”

“So that's where all her money went,” Brock joked. Brian let out a small chuckle. He could still feel the sting of alcohol seeping into the cuts the broken glass had given him. Dad pinned the theft on him and Mom readily accepted the idea. She had to have broken at least three plates, two bowls, and five cups, and to top it all off, she dumped her whiskey out on him. He'd ditched school for days because he couldn't get the fucking smell out of his hair. He didn't want to get drug tested again.

“Did he hit you?” 

“I’ll be alright.”

“How bad is it?” Brock waved it off. Brian dropped the subject. He knew what that meant. He let his mind wander, a mistake he had a habit of repeating when ever he was near or around Brock.

“I hit you.”

“I treat you like shit. I'd hit me too.” 

Brian shook his head. He had to get this out, he couldn't live with himself if he didn't. He felt that saying it out loud would justify himself in someway, prove something. It was an itch in his lungs he couldn't cough up.

“I don't want to be like my parents. I don't want to take my anger out on you. I don't want to be a petty asshole.” 

Brock listened. He couldn't help but hear himself behind those same words. He couldn't help but share the same guilt, the same fears, the same self hate. In that moment, they had traveled back in time three years ago when Brian had spotted the burns. They knew what the other was going through. 

“I don't care how you were treating me, or what it was that you did, or what ever. I shouldn't have hit you. I'm not going to hit you.”

Brock held back the urge to remind Brian that he'd said the same exact thing last time. This time, he didn't see the red flag he saw then. He saw Brian, a mess of a man struggling in the same mess Brock was fighting. This time he'd keep his promise. 

“I'm not going to keep treating you the way I do. Pushing your buttons like that was unacceptable and I knew better. It's time I stop acting like a goddamn child.” Brock spoke once Brian said his piece. 

Brian smiled weakly at the other, “No more taking out our anger on each other?”

“No more taking out our anger out on each other.”

Brian pushed off the wall and caught Brock in his arms. The two held each other for a moment, happy to have them back in their lives once more. Brock wanted to stay in Brian’s arms forever. The pain that erupted in his back forced them apart. Concern flashed on Brian’s face. He pulled Brock’s shirt up to see the damages done and frowned.

“Those look infected.”

“They’re fine,” Brock chuckled lightly.

“Please let me clean them?” Brock nodded, pulling the first aid kit from its hiding spot and handing it over. 

The two spent the rest of their day in the safety of that little car wash, laughing, reminiscing, plotting, and talking. The fire between them hadn't just been rekindled, it was alive and roaring. This time, it wasn't burning out.

When he walked the halls, he could feel eyes stare at him differently. Teachers pulled him aside to ask if he wanted to talk and reassure him that if he ever did want to talk that they were available. He'd catch the pitying looks of his peers. He hated it. Everyone looked at him as if he'd just gotten home from a war. In a way he did. But it wasn't his war. He wasn't the one who'd lost. He just lost the soldier.

There was a part of him that refused to believe that the war was even over. He never got the KIA letter. The soldier was just missing. That was all. He'd come home someday and they'd celebrate. He hated how everyone around him had so readily accepted the loss. 

There was nothing he could do. Maybe that was what tore him apart the most. He knew he was helpless from the start, but it was that being helpless that he loathed. He felt as though he should've done something, that he could’ve done something. 

What hurt the most was the feeling he woke up with every day. Every morning he felt like he was forgetting something. He'd make sure he had his phone, earbuds, charger, every article of clothing on, homework done, everything in his backpack, food in his stomach, water, everything. Still he couldn't shake that feeling of missing something. And he could never figure out what until he got to school and felt those eyes follow him. Then he'd remember, and he'd remember that there was nothing he could do.

He tried in the very beginning to play it off as if he wasn't hurting as bad as people thought. He smiled and laughed when appropriate. He tried so hard to act like he was fine. He wasn't sure when exactly he couldn't keep up the act. Before long, he wasn't even the same boy he had once been. 

He ignored everything around him. Every word spoken sounded as if it were being pushed through water in a completely different room. He couldn't bring himself to eat. He couldn't focus on anything. Only his stories. 

The side of his hand was always a metallic grey. Pencil lead would always be smeared everywhere. He had pages and pages of words. He had note books stuffed with adventures. He had a library of characters and plots. He ignored everything and anything if it didn't have anything to do with his stories. His life quickly became one that started with once upon a time and ended with happily ever after. 

He ignored the teachers when they told him he had to start doing class work again. He ignored the scolding he'd gotten from his parents. They didn't matter. 

He lived in his writing. He took his life, his emotions, his memories, and sprinkled them about carelessly, easily weaving them together to create universes. The more he wrote, the more he discovered just how much he loved his soldier. The more he found he wished he could have said when he still had the chance. The harder it became to get back to reality.

In his stories, Smitty never died. He was alive and happy. He was growing old with a family he loved dearly. He was accomplishing his goals. He was given the life he'd missed out on. John liked his stories. He liked to see Smitty happy. In his stories, Smitty couldn't die. He wouldn't let him.

He sat in his room. The notebook propped up on his knees was growing old and worn. It's last pages were rapidly becoming heavy as they became tattooed with unspoken thoughts. 

Jay knocked on the door gently before letting himself in. He ignored the smell of depression he was suddenly struck with. He figured that if he just pretended that the puke of dirty laundry wasn't there then the smell would go away with it. If he ignored the rotting food left on the night stand, maybe he could stomach the room a bit better. 

He took a careful seat on the end of the bed and watched John write. The scribbling sound of the pen in the paper was the only sound in the room. It was suffocating and painful. Jay hated the silence. It's been quiet for too long. 

“How’re you doing?”

“I'm alive,” John spat bitterly. Jay frowned. He placed a gentle hand on John’s leg in order to grab back his attention. John pulled his leg away and shot a glare at Jay. A warning Jay had seen far too many times in his life by far too many people. That's why he didn't care, he ignored the reaction and went on with what he'd originally came to do.

“You don't get to use that against people.” John stuck out his tongue and turned his back. He proceeded to harshly scribble away in the notebook, hoping that Jay would get the memo and go away. Jay sighed heavily.

“John, I didn't come here to fight with you.”

“Then you can go, cause I don't want to talk.”

“You don't have to talk. I'm asking that you at least listen to me though.” 

“Why won't you just leave me alone? Everyone else has!”

“For god’s sake John, I have lost my mother, I've lost Smitty, don't make me lose you too. I can't handle another fucking loss!”

John looked back over his shoulder. Jay had his head in his hands and was struggling to calm himself down to no avail. Stress had finally gotten to him. His shoulders bounced as he gave up trying to hold back sobs. John felt his chest tighten. 

“Goddamit, you and Smitty were all that I had left. You two were my greatest adventure. My closest and dearest of friends. It devastates me to wake up knowing half of my world is gone and never coming back. But you're still here. I still have you. I only have you. I don't want to lose you too. Please, talk to me. I miss you.”

John felt his own heart shatter at the sight before him. His throat clogged with a lump that he couldn't swallow down. His nose began to run. He set the notebook to the side and turned to face Jay. 

“You forget in your grief that there are others are hurting too,” Jay concluded. His voice fell away after that. He couldn't speak past his tears. 

“You're right. I'm sorry,” John spoke after a couple of seconds. Jay tried to regain control over himself again. His crying was reduced to nothing more than some pathetic hiccups at most. He dried his face with his palms and laughed lightly before wiping his hands dry on John’s pant leg. To which John responded by giving his friend a playful push. 

Jay sighed once he'd calmed down, “So anyways. I was gonna ask if you wanted to spend the night with me, Craig, and Tyler this Saturday. My place. We were going to binge some shows Smitty liked and eat junk food till we puked. You in?”

“Yeah. I'm in.” 

Jay smiled wide and bright at the answer. He then pulled the discarded notebook close and handed it to John. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders and got comfy.

“Read me something.”


	8. Flames

The cold had brought out the bitterness in everyone. Semester finals were rushing them and no one was really prepared. Marcel was happy to have most of his friends back. He was beyond thrilled to see his table alive with others once more. He was relieved to hear the usual chatter of cheating tips and plans for winter break. Marcel would look about his friends and feel at home once again. Every now and then, they'd snap at each other, a small fight would break out amongst them, but they'd have it resolved before the day ended. 

Luke had grown irritated in the passing week. Ryan had promised to visit and had done so only once. Luke was doubting that Ryan would actually continue to show up. He felt lied to. Jonny tried to cheer up his friend the best he could but his usual antics just weren't enough and he didn't know what to do anymore. He was tired of watching his group of four become a group of lone wolves. Bryce left when he found the joy that once existed between them all was dead and gone. He could be found happily chatting with Marcel and Scotty about everything and anything. 

Jonny was lonely. Evan was just as lonely. Now that Brock and Brian made up, Brock quit hanging out in the library. Evan occupied the small table alone. He tried to busy himself with studying to appease his parents high expectations. He just didn't have the motivation. 

He spotted Jonny on the last day of school for that year. Most classes had finished with their finals. Most classes were celebrating with small parties. The trash bins were overflowing with papers they no longer needed. The cold couldn't shake away the joy of the break that was quickly approaching. It seemed only Jonny wasn't pleased.

Evan spotted him in the hallway ripping apart one of his note books for salvageable pages. He didn't hear Evan approach. The shredding of paper was far louder than Evan’s carefully timed steps. He dumped the rest of the soiled notebook in the bin with the rest and turned on his heel to fetch another. He stopped dead in his tracks upon finding Evan.

The two just stared at eachother for a while. Neither made a move. Jonny glanced about the hall for any reason for Evan’s being there. Finding none, he came to the slow realization that Evan had been hunting him. He took a defensive stance. He had no plans on fighting Evan, none at all. He just hoped that if he looked it, then maybe Evan would go away. 

The silence stretched on and on and both searched for something to say. Evan found his voice first. He rubbed the back of his neck unsure of himself.

“You know, when I said I wanted to ruin our friendship, this wasn't what I meant,” he laughed nervously. He stopped laughing when Jonny appeared unamused. He sighed heavily and gestured for Jonny to follow, “Can we talk? Please?” 

Jonny wanted to let Evan walk away and pretend this whole exchange never happened. Nevertheless, he obeyed the request. He followed Evan back to the library. After all of this chaos it was still their little sanctuary. Jonny felt a breath of relief upon stepping inside. He hadn't seen it in so long he'd forgotten what security felt like. He took his usual seat by instinct. He looked about curiously and frowned.

“Where’s Brock? He sick or something?”

“No. He left early with Brian.” 

Jonny scoffed a bit and kept his thoughts unspoken. Evan took his seat after a moment’s hesitation. He felt exactly like he had during the party. He knew what he wanted to say he just didn't know how to say it. And he was terrified that Jonny would just laugh at him again. Jonny was sitting in the same boat.

“How’s home?”

“Same ol’ same ol’ I guess. I've given up on trying to please my parents. They don't matter. I've decided to work hard for myself. It's more rewarding that way anyways,” Jonny mumbled. He hated talking about home. He didn't like to think about the disappointed frowned he'd get from both parents or how his sister would rub the praise she got in his face. He turned to Evan, happy for the slow pace things were moving.

“Do your parents still expect you to keep studying even during break?”

Evan nodded with a roll of his eyes and small laugh, “They signed me up for a class. They're paying a lot for a private tutor and everything. It's so annoying! I just can't catch a break.”

Evan had decided a week ago or so that while he hated the constant pressure he was under, he was being set up with the best tools to help him succeed and he planned on using all of it to do just that. When he figured that he was doing all this studying for himself and less for his parents, it was easier. He could handle the workload somehow. 

“So you're not worried about Brock being with Brian?” Jonny asked after a moment. At this point he was just searching for any conversation topic that he felt wouldn't lead back to the party. Evan nodded after a second.

“I mean, I never really liked their relationship, but who am I to dictate what they do, you know?”

“Wait, so then you're not together?”

 

"Brock and I? No. That'd be like you dating Luke. Can you see that happening?”

Jonny thought for a second. He thought to Luke’s little antics and he tried to put himself in Ryan’s place at his side. He'd get a ride to school, a quick kiss on the cheek, and some sappy ass love notes everyday. 

“Maybe,” he joked. While all of that sounded nice, it wasn't him. That might work for Ryan, but he wasn't Ryan. He prefered a different taste of the same medicine. Evan laughed, and that sound made his little heart swell. It hurt knowing just how much of that sound he missed out on. He laughed with him uncontrollably, “Are you saying you wouldn't date Brock?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying. He's great and all, he's just not my type.”

Jonny leaned back in his chair a bit so that it's legs were no longer on the floor where they were supposed to be. “What is your type then?”

“You already know the answer to this,” Evan grumbled. He caught Jonny’s eye and broke with a giggle, “Chaotic. I like the inconsistent ones.”

Silence fell once more. Jonny felt a fit of panic itching away inside his head knowing exactly what was about to come out of Evan’s mouth. He wanted to freeze time to avoid it. He figured even that would be pointless. He could freeze time and run as far away as he wished and resume it only when he was safe and sound, but no matter what happened he'd always end up here, with Evan, trying to avoid the unavoidable. That or he'd lose Evan forever. He wasn't sure which was worse.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Evan spoke slowly. He tasted the words on his tongue. He hated how familiar this whole situation felt. He hated how he was about to stick himself out in the open for Jonny to open fire on him. He collected himself and pushed the rest of the words out.

“Why did you laugh?”

“What?”

“When I asked you out. Was I sappy? Do you really just see us as friends? Just why? I feel that I could ask you out again and I'd just get the same answer. I want to know why.”

Jonny was quiet a moment. Part of him wanted to know the answer too. He let the chair return to the floor and he leaned against the table. His fingers traced the patterns lazily.

“I panicked. I wasn't expecting that to happen. Any of it. I thought- I don't know what I thought. All that what happened just wasn't what I was expecting and you caught me off guard and I panicked.” He'd started his little rambling off slowly but towards the end, his words ran together in this clumped up mess. 

“So you didn't mean to laugh?” Jonny shook his head. 

It was time they tackled this, he thought. Luke was right, he should've talked to Evan a long time ago. He watched relief flood Evan’s face and that too was soon eaten up by confusion once more.

“So wait, if you hadn't laughed, if you didn't panic, what would have been your answer?” He stopped himself instantly. He threw up his hands to keep Jonny from answering that question. He pinched the bridge of his nose and reorganized his thoughts. 

“I mean, if I were to ask you again, would you still laugh?” That wasn't what he meant. He wanted to stick with his first question, but he didn't want to risk it. Not yet.

Jonny was still for a moment. He felt that the time apart had an effect on their relationship. He felt that they weren't as close as they once had been. But he knew Evan better than anyone. He knew that they'd be able to patch up the rough spots and move on. He knew the first time that he'd meant to say yes. And while it had been one hell of a shit ride, he still wanted to say yes.

“No I wouldn't laugh this time.”

“Would you run away?”

Evan fidgeted with his own chair. The fabric was falling apart and he was glad it could keep his hands busy and his mind semi clear. He watched Jonny anxiously. He wasn't sure at this point if it was still worth trying to ask him out. Maybe now Jonny had decided. Instead of being laughed at, he'd just get straight up rejected. 

“No. I wouldn't run away.” Evan felt a wave of relief wash over him. At least he knew he'd get an answer this time. He braced himself for the tidal waves of emotions he knew he was about to drown in. He opened his mouth but Jonny stopped him.

“Evan, it's my turn for questions.” Evan felt his heart catch in his throat. He was starting to regret this whole talking thing. He came for answers, that's what he got . He knew it was stupid to try and push for more. He wished Brock was there to help coach him through this situation. He gave Jonny a nervous nod. It was only fair that he answered questions too. 

Jonny was silent a moment. He was struggling to put together just exactly what it was he wanted to say. 

“We’re still best friends right?” Evan felt the stab of pain upon hearing the word friend. He saw his plan of trying to ask Jonny out again fall apart in a ball of flames. Friend zoned. It burned. 

“Yes. Of course,” he answered shakily. He still loved Jonathan. If he couldn't date him, maybe he could still save their friendship and be happy with that. He'd have to be. 

“I'd do anything for you, even lick a toilet. And you'd do anything for me, right?” 

Evan thought back to his freshman year. He'd gotten cornered in the bathroom by some jerks who graduated the very next year. Jonathan had been his knight in shining armor. He'd scared the assholes away by playing the psychotic kid. He'd learned a long time ago that acting tough only got you so far. No one wanted to fuck with you when you were godless and refused to obey societal rules. Once the punks had left, he puked. That was how they met. Up to the day, they’d joke about how no other friends had a better story than they did. Nogla and Lui would glance at each other and snicker. Regardless, it was a memory both looked back upon fondly. And if the situation was reversed, Evan would readily lick a toilet. 

Jonny smiled once he heard that. He had two final questions he knew Evan had the answers to. 

“You know you ruined our friendship right?” Evan felt that stab of the friend zone become the agonizing pain of his heart getting ripped from his chest, thrown on the ground, and stomped on. He really hoped that they could still save this. He thought that they could. He didn't think that Jonny had already given up. Still he nodded. Maybe he asked too soon. Maybe it had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe they were doomed to fail before they ever even started.

Jonny watched the panic run through Evan and he remembered the panic that ran through him. A little taste of pay back, he figured. 

“Do you still wanna ruin this friendship and be lovers instead?” He was careful with how he asked this. He changed his tone completely. With the others, he'd asked the way a parent asked a guilty kid if they were the one who broke the vase. This time, he asked it the way it was supposed to be asked. He lined every word with hope and a tinge of fear to show his own uncertainty. 

Of course Evan picked up on all of it. He froze. He had to take the words and run them back through his head over and over. He heard them, he'd definitely heard them. He just couldn't believe them. He stared at Jonny as things finally began to click in his head. He playfully punched Jonny in the arm.

“You ass! You had me scared to death!” Jonny erupted with laughter at the answer. That was all he needed. There was no yes or no to that question anyway. He grinned at the vibrant shade of pink Evan was becoming. Evan laughed with him and tried to calm his beating heart to no avail. 

“You're a brat.”

“I'm your type,” Jonny reminded. Evan suddenly regret everything he ever said around Jonny. Had he known that Jonny was going to remember every last word and use it against him, he'd’ve avoided this whole relationship and saved himself the trouble. 

The two spent the rest of the day planning around Evan’s busy schedule to fit in time for each other and plans.

“I'm glad you said yes cause I bought you a present like a month ago and it would have been awkward as all hell giving it to you if you hadn't,” Jonny informed on their way out the building. He walked Evan to his dad’s car slowly. They were savoring the time they had together. It had been far too long since they had some quality time. It was nice. 

“If you got me another stuffed bear, I'm going to cry.”

“If I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise and that's the whole point of wrapping the damned things!” 

Evan laughed at that. He climbed into his car and waved to Jonny until he could no longer see him. He met his dad’s eyes in the mirror.

“So you finally asked him out then?” His dad teased, having known about the crush for months. Evan shook his head.

“Even better,” he answered. His dad grinned and listened to Evan pour his heart out. 

“I'm glad. You're good for that boy and he's just the right amount of crazy to be good for you.”

It dawned on Evan then that he could probably never let his parents down. While they spoke of him like the sun, like a god, he couldn't disappoint them because they wanted what was best for him. And they'd understand if they gave him too much. They wanted him to be happy as much as they wanted him to be successful. The first thing they did was rearrange Evan’s schedule to fit better with Jonny’s. Evan couldn't love his parents any more than he had in that moment. 

Luke picked up a grinning Jonny and spotted a sliver of sunlight. He laughed at his friend's sudden hyper attack.

“Goddamn, man, who did you beat up? What did they do?” He joked. Jonny gave him an excited look, unable to summon the words to explain himself. He didn't have to. After knowing Jonny for years, Luke understood. He let out a whoop as a form of congratulation and promptly treated him to lunch. 

Neither Evan nor Jonny could stop smiling for the rest of the year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more to go


	9. Hopeless. Hapless. Homeless.

The snow fell in heavy and thick clumps that clung to the sidewalks and streets. A thick layer of ice was hidden away beneath a near foot of the stuff. Not a car dared to drive. Not a person dared to walk. The wind was vicious. It threw about the flakes so hard they turned to miniature bullets made of ice. The clouds were so thick that the moon’s radiant light was lost completely. The world was blanketed beneath an ever darkening shadow of gloom. Not even the streetlights could combat it. Though they tried.

Ryan waited patiently besides the light rail station beneath the small overhead. He watched the sky shed its heart out and wondered how much longer it was going to last. He sighed heavily. His fingertips had turned purple and blue and he could no longer feel them. His hair stuck up in spikes made of ice. He was trembling violently against the cold. The clothes on his back did what they could to help trap some of his body heat but it just wasn't enough. The holes in his shoes didn't help. 

He fought away the pain of the winter weather by focusing on the agony in his stomach. It had been nearly a week since he'd eaten. The last thing he had was a half eaten sandwich that he’d dug out of the trash. It's amazing what nine days without food can make you do. It was evident he was starving. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that. He was a skeleton someone had painted skin onto. His eyes were sunken and dark. His breathing was shallow. He was sickly pale. His cheeks, however, were always tinted a faint pink due to the fever that had crept up on him days ago. 

To any stranger who passed him, he looked like a corpse come back from the grave to forever wander and haunt the earth. He knew that if this weather kept up, if he couldn't get his hands on a decent meal, or see a doctor, it wouldn't be long before he wound up a set of forgotten remains left to rot in the streets for the crows to pick at.

Ryan felt as though he was a drift in the tides of life. He felt that there was nothing he could do, no branches he could cling to, no boat to swim to, there was nothing he could control to save himself from drowning. The current was strong and he was sick of swimming. 

There were days that he wasn’t sure he'd make it. Some nights, the cold grew too bitter for him to sleep. There were mornings he was too sick to see. He had fallen asleep far too many times uncertain that he'd wake up the next day. It was a struggle to stay alive, a war he was too tired to keep fighting alone. But he was the only soldier out on the battlefield. He was alone, unarmed, blindfolded, and strapped to a bomb in the middle of no man’s land waiting for everything to just stop. He never knew when it would happen. It was the not knowing part that scared him the most. He felt that if he could see it coming, maybe he could leave the planet peacefully. He wouldn't have to die scared. 

The snow refused to let up. It veiled his vision and offered him a canvas for his imagination to paint with memories and thoughts. It was one of those nights, the ones where he wasn't sure he'd see the junkyard he called home. 

He missed his palace of trash. The forgotten furniture provided the most shelter he'd had in a little over a month. The many piles of cars offered plentiful hiding spots and protection against the elements. He missed his little van. He'd decorated the inside with a small stack of cardboard he used as a bed and a mattress he heard as a side door, as the van was missing several of them. It wasn't much. To many, it was nothing at all. But to him it was home, the only one he had. And he loved it. 

He stepped out from the safety of his small shelter and prepared himself to trudge through the heaping mountains of thick snow. His frost bitten feet begged him not to, but the fever told him that if he didn't find a better shelter soon, he may as well just throw in the towel. 

He bit the tip of his tongue as a distraction from the wind that belted at his face. He stepped boldly into an impossible maze without walls, a beginning, nor an end. 

He made his way around town blind and hopeful. These days, hope was all he had. A soldier cannot win a war armed with hope and hope alone. But goddamnit he was going to try. 

He'd given up on the hopes of getting back to the junkyard. By the time that he did, it would be time for him to head to work. He figured he would save himself the trouble and just get to work. Maybe he'd actually make it there in time. Brutis wouldn't have to clock him in for once. 

He struggled to make out the buildings he passed and the street signs. He wasn't sure where he went wrong, which street he'd mistaken for which, but somewhere along the way he realized he was lost and not at all where he should be. 

Soon the buildings began to thin out. He stopped at what he could only assume was a small grocery store of sorts that was closed for the holiday weekend. He struggled to read the darkened letters that hung above the entrance. He frowned when he found he didn't recognize it. Still, there was nothing else around to indicate where he was. By then, the snow had covered his tracks and he had no way of telling where he'd come from. In this maze of white nothingness, he was back at the start. Though he'd gotten quite a ways away from it. 

He sighed heavily and gave up. He figured this was bound to happen eventually. He'd been this far surviving entirely on luck, he knew it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. Defeated and too cold to care anymore, he decided sleeping on the side of the store where the wind didn't blow as hard would suffice for shelter for the night. He'd deal with the consequences of his actions in the morning. He hoped so at least. 

He took a seat besides a rusted dumpster and pulled his aching legs as close to his chest as they could possibly get. He stretched his thin shirt over his knees and tucked it under his toes. He pulled his arms through his sleeves and buried them in the gap between his stomach and his thighs. 

He closed his eyes and let his body get what little rest it could. He couldn't sleep. There was no way in hell he'd ever be able to sleep in such weather, but he liked to pretend. Time passed as time does. She raked her fingers of destruction carelessly across the land and watched uncaring as the world slowly continued to fall apart. 

Ryan felt something cold and wet and furry brush against his cheek. For a second he panicked. Had time finally taken pity on him? Had that been the embrace of death poets were so fond of talking about? He was almost too scared to open his eyes. He worried that when he opened them he'd be at the pearly gates and St. Peter would be smiling at him. Or worse, he worried he’d wake up and be there, besides that dumpster and small building with some strange man or thing brushing up against him.

He was disappointed to find he hadn't passed away, but his disappointment didn't last long. Besides him sat a small dog, curled up, coated in ice, and licking at his bleeding paws. He looked over at Ryan and gently rested his head against his leg and sighed. Ryan grinned at the small animal. He figured that god had heard his pleas and had sent him an angel. 

“Are you lost too?” The dog pulled his own body closer to Ryan, greedily eating up the warmth he offered. Ryan chuckled lightly. He freed a hand and gently pet the dog.

“Well, I don't have much. No money, barely a job, and not a crumb of food, but I can still be your home if you're willing to be mine,” he whispered. The wind took his voice and tossed it aside the way a gambler would toss a dice. It was scattered and faint and fell deaf to the poor dog’s ears. 

Ryan half expected to just suddenly wake up and the dog would be gone. The little encounter would have been all in his head. But the morning came around and the dog had stayed at his side. 

Ryan got directions from a kind, young gentleman and along with it a ride. The man had been sweet enough to offer the dog the same ride. Ryan wanted to correct the man and inform him that the dog wasn't him, but before the words could leave his mouth, the dog had hopped in and was waiting patiently for Ryan. He had no clue who’s dog this had been. It didn't matter. He decided then and there that it was his. This was his buddy. 

He found his life had a meaning again. Suddenly the risk of death wasn't as appealing as it had once been. He had Buddy to look out for. He had to stay alive so that Buddy could get a meal and some warmth. He lived and breathed for that dog.

When he lost his job, the second one he picked up, the one he sacrificed his school and the rest of his future for, it had been Buddy who’d saved him. Buddy didn't judge him the way the rest of the world did. The manager may have thought Ryan was a health hazard waiting to happen, too dirty for the establishment, and a concern to the general public, but Buddy saw none of that. Buddy saw Ryan as a friend, a caretaker, and a guardian angel.

Just as Ryan saw that Buddy was his angel meant to guide him through the toughest of times. He couldn't help but remember the tale of how Jesus had carried a man through the desert, the story about one pair of footprints in the sand during the hardest of times. It just entertained him. His desert didn't have one pair of foot prints, it had six. 

And as loving as his dog was, as sweet of a relief it was to have some good company and a sense of purpose again, Buddy could do nothing to save Ryan as he fell ever more ill.

The fever refused to leave. It had taken an iron grip over him. His muscles ached. He could never get enough water. Any food he did manage to scavenge he couldn't hold down. He needed sleep but it hurt too much to lay down. It became an exhausting struggle just to walk. 

Despite all of this, he picked up every single last extra hour of work. He did his absolute best to please his boss. He worked his butt off to find Buddy something to eat. He pushed himself to the very edge of what he could handle. And even after his body had told him enough was enough and that it couldn't handle the stress of it anymore, he pushed himself over said edge and began to fall.

He had fainting spells at work. He had hot flashes and fits. He'd collapse on his way back home. He'd pass out no matter how cold it was. 

One night, after powering through a fourteen hour long shift, he'd been walking home. The complete lack of a lunch break broke him. He was broken a long time ago. Only now had time caught up to him. 

The night was still and dead. Nothing moved but him. His breathing was labored. It stumbled from his quivering lips in puffs that steamed up his cracked glasses. His vision danced and swayed violently from left to right. The street lights began to blur in streaks across the sky and he was horrendously dizzy. He wanted to puke but there was nothing left in his stomach to cough up. His head was a hammer bashing against paper walls. His ears were ringing. 

He was terribly unbalanced and uncoordinated. It's hard to walk straight when the world around you is spinning too fast for you to see. Placing one foot after another became a more difficult task that only small toddlers would struggle with. One foot slid from its place. The ground rushed up to catch him. He tried to throw his arms out to save himself, but his reaction had been delayed. He landed mostly on his shoulder. His head bounced off the ice coated street and he felt the hammer shatter his skull like thin glass. 

The world seemed to be against him. He suddenly couldn't tell what was up or down. He knew he hit the ground but he wasn't sure why. He couldn't breathe. He was panicking but didn't have the energy to fight back. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to fight back. The wind was ripping his skin to shreds. His vision was lined with a thick red he couldn't see past. 

He was scared. No, scared is too light of a word. He was petrified. He thought back to Buddy and how badly the dog relied on him. He thought back to Luke and the promise he made of visiting when he had the chance. He thought of how far he'd gotten and how much he’d saved up trying to afford a place to stay. He thought of all of his hand work coming to an end. He thought of how Buddy would be stuck waiting for his return, forever left to wonder where he went. He thought of how Luke would never know what happened. He thought of how his parents wouldn't care to look for him. He thought of everything and it terrified him. He hated the thought of death and what awaited him on the other side. He hated not knowing. 

A bright light suddenly washed away everything. A familiar, loud noise quickly bombarded his head but he couldn't make sense if any of it. For a second he wondered if this was what it was like to die. Was this the light at the end of the tunnel that everyone talked about? 

He wasn't sure if he was cold because of how underdressed he was or because the hands of death had come to carry him away. 

He hoped that someway, somehow, Luke and Buddy would find peace after his departure. He hoped that Buddy would make it through the winter and find another home. He hoped that heaven existed. He hoped he'd earned his way in. He hoped that whatever this experience was, that it would be quick and painless. 

And the world fell from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Difficult roads can lead to beautiful destinations.


	10. Headlights

Life is like hitting a deer. There are four people you can be, four stages if you will. You can be the driver, who no matter how bright the headlights, or how slow they were going, still couldn't avoid it. You can be the passenger, who was helpless to do anything but watch. You can be the truck, the unintentional cause, a victim of circumstance. Or you can be the deer. You never had a chance. It's a startling experience for all four. One walks away bruised and dented but overall ok. Reparable. Two make it out with some mental scarring that in time will scab up. And one, well...

Luke lay down on the horn at the lump he found in the road. It was cold and way too late for this. He was annoyed enough that his tire had fallen in love with a screw on his way home from the store. He didn't have time to deal with some passed out addict.

Blood, the crimson color that it was, clashed viciously against the white of the snow. It gleamed in the lights that bathed the unmoving person. There wasn't much, and it was clearly fresh, but that still didn't make the sight any easier on his tired eyes. Luke sighed heavily. He just wanted to go home, but he forced himself out of his car to make sure that the person was still alive. That was the right thing to do after all. 

He approached slowly just in case this was a ploy to steal his car. That was the last thing he needed right now. He half wanted to hunt down a stick or something so that he could poke at the unconscious mess. He didn't want to get too close incase they attacked him. 

He stopped in his tracks and stared in disbelief at the scene before him. He fell to his knees. His hand felt around for a pulse. He pulled the limp heap into his arms and dragged him back to his car. He propped him up and blasted the heater. He wasted no time finding the nearest hospital and getting there. 

The body besides him moved a bit. Ryan let out a groan. His hand fluttered to his head and he winced when his frozen fingertips met the warm blood. He glanced about his surroundings. He saw everything but recognized none of it. He was too tired to care. This was great, he thought, he really needed to get kidnapped on top of everything. Why not? 

“Hey! You ok? Why the fuck were laying face down in the road? Where is your jacket? Ryan, what the hell’s happened to you?”

He got no response. The ice on the road didn't stop him from going a tad bit over the speed limit. He swerved his car whenever they slid and did his best to get to the hospital as quickly as he could. He had no idea if Ryan was dying or was just hurt, or what he needed. The emergency room seemed to be the only place he could take his friend.

They weren't busy at least. He wouldn't have to wait a half hour for a doctor. He got help in through the doors. The doctors took Ryan away while Luke filled out what all he needed and emptied his pockets of all electrical and metal devices. He was asked to wait while they rushed back and forth trying to figure out what was wrong with his boyfriend. 

Alive. He was alive. Frozen, in agony, sick, but alive. Luke was pacing anxiously switching from texting friends to making the necessary calls. He was nervous and unable to settle down even for a second. His voice broke apart into pieces over the phone.

The doctors asked him to sit down because he was making the other patients worry. He waited for news on his friend’s well being for what felt like hours. Finally, after an eternity had passed, he was allowed to see Ryan, who was finally conscious and capable of speech. 

He tore into the room ready to rip him to shred with questions. His terror was masked by a thick veil of anger. But the second he saw Ryan on his bed, pale, connected to wires and machines, sickly, the anger vanished and he was overwhelmed with joy. 

He encaged Ryan in a hug with a vice like grip. He didn't ever want to let him go. He pulled away only to inspect the boy in his arms. His eyes tracked over his complexion. He was scared that if he turned his eyes away even for a second that he'd wake up and all of this would vanish. Or worse. But there Ryan stayed, groaning in mild pain from being jostled around too much. 

The two spoke. Luke was just happy to see Ryan again after the long separation of time. He was glad to see that he'd be ok. He listened as Ryan rattled off about his situation and the anger he'd lost at the door came creeping back on him.

“You could've called. My doors were always open. You could have stayed at my place, Ryan, you knew that.” 

“With my jobs, it would have been impossible for me to get to and from work, I couldn't risk it-”

“We would have figured out a way! You wouldn't have had to get the second job. Why didn't you tell me?”

“Pride.” His answer was short and to the point. Ryan never was the type to sugar coat things. It took Luke a second to really understand what had been said. It infuriated him. Yet he understood. A little bit. It was stupid, and he heavily disagreed with it, but he understood. And the topic was dropped. It wasn't worth stressing about anymore.

The two stayed up late into the night to talk to each other and figure out where Ryan went once he was back on his feet. It was decided that he, along with Buddy, were to stay over at Luke’s, like he should have from the start. The conversation was interrupted when the doctor insisted that Ryan get his rest. 

Luke spent the night sleeping on a chair. He didn't want to leave Ryan’s side. He only ever left the room when the doctors asked it when he had to take a phone call from his worried mother. As of that morning after he'd been admitted, it appeared that Ryan might be stuck there for a couple more days. A week at most. Luke was well aware that he couldn't spend every last second of Ryan’s stay by his side. He'd have to go home eventually. 

But that was for future Luke to worry about. Something he forgot about as the two of them spoke about many things and got lost in the conversation. A nurse knocked gently on the door near noon. The two hadn't even noticed the time pass them by. She calmly alerted Ryan that he had two other visitors, his parents.

Ryan’s face lit up for a second. Luke couldn't tell if the look was that of joy, surprise, or hope. Really, it didn't look like any of said emotions. It was difficult to place. Ryan turned away from the nurse with a frown pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I don't want to see them.”

“They're your parents,” Luke urged softly. 

“And the reason I'm here. They're probably playing nice before child protective services shows up to yell at them,” he grumbled back quickly. Luke was quiet. He figured Ryan had every right to feel the way he did. He didn't exactly stand in any position to tell him otherwise. 

Luke left to fetch them something to eat from the cafeteria when an officer stepped in to ask Ryan a couple questions. He figured he could fetch them both something to eat while he was out. Ryan said he hadn't eaten in awhile, maybe food would help lighten the mood.He spotted the pair of parents loudly arguing with a set of nurses and doctors. They were outraged that they couldn't see their boy. Security had been called over in the hopes of either calming them down or kicking them out. They both left with a huff once threatened to be arrested. But not before stopping to talk with Luke, who the father had spotted a near mile away. He was a hard boy to miss. 

“You're Patterson, right? You found my son?”

Luke wasn't entirely sure if he should be talking to the man. He was worried this would just turn into another shouting match. And while he had a couple of choice words he was just itching to try out, he'd been taught better than to start fights with the parents of his friends. Or adults in general. He concluded that it would be best if he just cooperated. That way when things did finally get out of hand, he wouldn't get into as much trouble as he maybe could have. He nodded. The man grinned, or he tried to at least.

“My son doesn't want to see me right now, and that's understandable. Could I ask you to pass on a note for me?”

Luke glanced back at the elevator he had been headed towards. Hesitantly he gave the go ahead and this look of relief swarmed the older man’s face. He handed over a folded slip of paper with a smile, one that Luke had never before seen on this man’s face ever. 

“Thank you.”

With a nod, the man rejoined his wife’s side and the two walked off. Luke turned his back and returned to Ryan’s room. The officer had left only moments ago, the door was open and Ryan was resting, clearly unhappy. Luke knocked lightly before stepping inside.

“What she ask?”

“Too many questions. Whatcha get? I'm starving!”

Luke took a seat on the foot of the bed and handed over the treats he'd found. Though he could hardly call them treats at all. It is no mystery that hospital food, much like public school lunch food, tastes like ass. Mystery meat, stale breads, maybe these are noodles™, there are broccoli chunks there for it's healthy, and this was supposed to be a pastry but we forgot it in the oven for two and a half years and it's actually a rock painted to look like a sort of pastry™ was all the two had to offer. If inspected beneath a microscope, it's highly possible that scientists would argue that it's not even food, but some bizarre alien pretending to be food for whatever bizarre reasonings it had. No one really understands aliens. Just as no one really understood the “food” served in hospitals. But it was good nonetheless and Ryan scarfed it down his throats knowing full well that he'd regret it later. 

Luke couldn't eat as quickly, or rather he couldn't eat at all. Maybe his nerves had chased away his appetite. He didn't know the reason nor did he care. He picked at the possibly food but most likely alien species and let the silence consume them just as it always seemed to do. 

“Your dad left you a note, asked me to give it to you.”

Ryan held out his hand expectantly, mouth far too full to make any snarky comment or rude remark. Luke handed it over reluctantly. Part of him wasn't entirely sure he should have given it up. It appeared that the relationship between the parents wasn't exactly stable. Still he had a right to it. 

Ryan read it over quietly. His eyes skimmed the letter lazily at first but something shifted and he looked the way a child would when getting to the best part of the book.

“Are they still here?”

“Your folks? Probably, I can go fetch them if you want-”

“Please?”

Luke nodded and excused himself. He found the two outside arguing in their car. It was no hassle to get them from said car to Ryan’s room. He left the three alone and waited patiently out in the hall. 

There are parents who are blinded by hate at first. Parents so glued to their beliefs, so fueled by anger and guided by stone fasted hate that they are indifferent to their own flesh and blood who simply cannot be forgiven. Misunderstandings may never be understood. Just as there are some parents who are strong enough to realize the error of their ways and taking it upon themselves to correct things.

Weather or not this set of parents was the good kind of the bad kind was entirely up to the future to decide. 

Inside that room, his father stood at a distance. His hands were buried in his pockets and he looked anxious. His wife stood besides him, head hung low. Their son watched, temporarily crippled in the bed that wasn't his. None said a word for nearly two minutes. The note, now unfolded, was nestled between Ryan’s hands.

While his father stood, now tongue tied and silent, Ryan could hear his words spoken aloud. An apology he was too ashamed or maybe too proud to say. But he'd written it down. Time and time again. He'd been uncertain if he'd see his son again, if his outlasted son would ever want to see him again, if he was being too selfish to stand before him now and ask for forgiveness. 

And maybe he was right to worry. His actions were inexcusable, and he had no real ground to even try and explain himself. And while hopeful that his son would understand, he remained understanding in the fact that their bond was long ago severed and perhaps unfixable. 

“I’m-” his voice didn't come out more than a failing whisper -”I'm sorry.”

And that was all he said. That was all he was supposed to say. He knew his message would be understood. There was no need for further conversation. Two words was enough to get his point across.

“I'm sorry too,” Ryan deadpanned. His father gave a slow nod and gently lead his wife out of the room and excused himself. Broken. Many things were broken. Maybe not everything could be fixed, maybe not everything should be fixed. He didn't know. 

His wife walked in ahead but he stayed behind. Once his wife was out of earshot he turned once more to Luke for what he knew would not be the last time. He was older, broader, more experienced, and taller than this Patterson child, and yet he felt so small standing before him. 

“My son may hate me. He may resent me. He may never want to hear of me, or see me, or have anything to do with me. And I can understand that. So before I slip out of his life, I wanted to thank you for saving him. For being there for him. I don't quite understand you two, but I'm glad that out of all the others out there, it was you he chose. You're a good man, Luke. Thank you.”

And he rushed to catch up with his fleeting wife. He didn't look back over his shoulder. He didn't have to. Just as Like didn't dwell on the small thanks for long. He didn't want to. He put it aside to be addressed later. For now, he had to find where exactly Ryan had sheltered himself and his dog to save it before it froze to death.

You may be pleased to know that Buddy was found, and was taken to a vets office where his wounds were treated and he was brought back to full health. Ryan and Luke stayed at Luke’s place until both went to college and took off to explore the world a bit. Brian and Brock escaped their own home lives and got an apartment together where they have been ever since. Tyler and Craig were separated by a family move, but this didn't stop them from dating a year later. Marcel moved on to become a sports journalist and was featured in three published books. Nogla and Lui both became stuntsman and were in and out of hospitals, very happy with their work. Jay became a children’s doctor. And John went on to publish fifteen children’s books. As for Evan and Jonathan, the two stayed in town the longest. Evan felt the pressure lift off of him when he proudly opened a music store instead of pursuing a more educated profession. Jonathan never won his parents approval, but he never had to. The two lived very happily until retirement homes reached their future.

Smitty, while long ago lost, watched upon the world and smiled at his findings. He knew that when they all came to see him again, they'd tell him all sorts of wonderful stories. And he couldn't wait.

Life is like hitting a deer. There are four victims, you could say. The truck, the driver, the passenger, and the deer. And all throughout life, you will find yourself in one of these positions. That's part of driving through the mountains I suppose. And while each may have taken strange winding roads, all met at the same place at the same time. Where who will go where is unknown. And while many fear it, some may say that the unknown is the best part of life. 

So next time you go driving in the mountains, turn your headlights on, watch out for deer, and remember that while the roads were bumpy, they still got you to where you needed to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the loving memory of Leah and Elliot.
> 
> May you both find your happily ever after a in the after life. I will forever keep you in the headlights of my future so that I may better see the deer I have yet to meet.


End file.
